


Berrybog Boys

by MartinMova



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cottagecore, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Unrequited Love, going to update these as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 25,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartinMova/pseuds/MartinMova
Summary: Nils moves into a ruined cottage in Ireland, where he meets some decent people and one asshole. In a spur of anger and bad decision-making, he gives the locals a wrong impression of his relationship with his soon-to-be housemate. And he really doesn’t want to clarify it.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36





	1. The House

“Somebody moved into the Berrybog Cottage!”

In Edenderry, this sort of thing was the news of the month. Last time the village was so excited was when Connolly's youngest daughter came home from college with a baby bump. 

Perhaps, if it was any other house, people wouldn’t be so excited, but the Berrybog Cottage was quite infamous. Its last inhabitant was a grouchy man called Mr. Stanton, who moved away in 1995, soon after his wife died. Although he left the house, he refused to sell it for over a dozen years, leaving it for his inheritors in absolute disrepair. What was once a picturesque cottage, a perfect fit for the Irish hills it was built on, became not much more than a safety hazard. 

After Staton’s death, his grandchildren tried to sell the house, but not many people were interested in a falling apart building in the middle of nowhere. And so the house stood empty for years, only occasionally visited by one of the young Statons, when a sudden influx of unfounded optimism or a new debt led them to take more photos and post them on real estate websites. 

Until yesterday.

Bernadette barely opened the door to Sinead’s store, before shouting these news to the older woman, “Someone moved in, for real! Fionn mentioned seeing lights there in the evening, so this morning I decided to drive next to it. To make sure it wasn’t vandals or robbers, of course.” 

Knowing Bernadette’s love for rumors, Sinead highly doubted that statement, but she just raised one eyebrow at her.

“Of course.”

“At first I thought it might be, you know? There was a car in front and it was, like, real beat up, but it sounded like somebody was drilling inside, so either there’s an actual person living there now, or somebody broke in and was so outraged that they decided to fix it.” 

Bernadette laughed at her own joke. Sinead didn’t find it that funny, but she was polite enough to give her a light chuckle. “Unless they are using a sledgehammer, I doubt they could make it any worse.”

“Exactly! Anyway, who do you think was stupd enough to buy that place?”

***

Nils let out a long string of curse words, trying to pick this goddamn piece of cobweb out of his goddamn hair. He started to suspect he might have made a horrible mistake.

Was he lured in by the eerie vibe of an old, overgrown cottage?

Yes.

Was he aware that outside of the aesthetic, it would be a huge pain in the ass?

Absolutely.

Did he expect a colony of spiders to fall out of a cabinet as soon as he opened it?

Hell no.

Looking at the condition of the house, perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. Determined to not make the same mistake again, Nils would only barely open any containers, and then immediately jump back. So far, the only thing it got him was a bruised elbow, but he was not about to stop. Fool him once and so on.

After all, there was nobody here to witness this humiliating display. Which was good, when it came to not having to choose between being embarrassed and  _ spiders _ , but also bad, when it came to actually dealing with this whole mess. It’s going to take him forever just to clean the main building! And then there’s other parts of the estate! And the garden! Not to mention the lack of usable furniture, which seemed like a fun little challenge - he always wanted to try building some - but it’s going to take him days or weeks to even get to that part!

Nils groaned loudly and leaned his head on the mirror. Then he remembered how dirty it was, abruptly pulled himself back, bumped into a shelf, hit his elbow  _ again  _ and toppled over a bunch of cleaning supplies. 

He looked at the mess scattered around the floor and on his own tired face in the mirror. At that point, he was just as dusty and miserable as the house itself.

He had to get out of there. 

***

It seemed like every person in Edenderry already had a theory, or at least a fantasy, about the new inhabitant of the Berrybog Cottage. It was early afternoon and Sinead already heard it all, as every customer that entered her store started with a ‘ _ Did you hear? _ ’ or was greeted by Bernadette’s _ ‘Guess what!’ _ , if they didn’t.

The young girl was especially invested in this mystery, always finding the time to chat with the customers from behind the counter. It wasn’t a particularly busy day, so Sinead allowed it.

Bernadette was currently in the middle of telling Mrs. Staton her own theory - she hoped it was a young and handsome man, probably an eccentric heir of a small fortune, who moved here with a broken heart, hoping to find a beautiful girl to heal it, and…

At that point, Sinead was pretty sure that her employee was just reciting a Jane Austen novel. There were horses involved.

And then, the bell over the door rang.

All three women looked at the entrance and froze when they saw an unfamiliar face. Sinead’s first thought was that Bernadette was right. Her second thought was to mentally scold herself for how silly that was.

The person that entered was indeed a young and… possibly handsome man? He was short and lean, with blond hair that had- were those cobwebs stuck in it? His face might have been pleasant, but it was smudged with dust and dirt - as were his clothes. His most striking feature would have been his bright blue eyes, if it weren’t for their slight redness and the dark circles underneath them.

Sinead immediately felt a maternal urge to send him to sleep.

The man also paused, faced with this peculiar welcoming committee, and said, “Hello?”

“Hi! How can we help you?” Bernadette was the first person to break the silence, already writing wedding vows in her head.

“I’m looking for… cleaning supplies?” He sounded like he wasn’t sure what he was looking for either. Maybe he was just spooked by all this attention? Mrs. Staton was staring at him as if she was trying to memorise every detail of his person, probably to immediately tell her neighbours. 

“Sure, let me show you!” Bernadette chirped, going out from behind the counter and leading the poor man further into the store. “You have a lot of cleaning to do?”

Subtle, Bernadette. Subtle.

The man looked like he was having a war flashback as he said, “That’s… putting it mildly.”

Not deterred by the man paying more attention to the shelves than her, Bernadette continued her interrogation. “So, are you new around here?”

He nodded. “Came to Ireland on Tuesday. I bought the old house in the hills.”

By that point Bernadette probably finished the wedding vows and was now at the stage of choreographing their first dance. Not only was he really from the Berrybog Cottage, but she managed to make him talk to her! In semi-complete sentences! 

“We’ll definitely be seeing each other a lot then!” she almost purred, “Do you have a name?”

“Nils. Um, Nils Cavendish.”

“Nils?”

“Yeah. It’s Norwegian.”

“Oh, fun! Are you from Norway?”

“No.”

“O… kay then. So where are you from?”

The man was looking miserable enough at that line of questioning, that Sinead decided to take pity and help him out. “Stop pestering the customer.” She said to the younger woman and shook her head. “I’m Sinead, this is Bernadette. We’re the general store around here.”

Moving the focus away from Nils calmed him a little, although he still seemed quite gruff. He left a few pleasantries and two bags of questionable detergents and snacks later, leaving Sinead with a Bernadette that was almost jumping with excitement. 

It was going to be a long day.

***

In front of his cottage, Nils turned the car engine off. He put his hands on the steering wheel and laid his head down on them. Wanting to stretch the time before going back to work, he took a moment to just look at the house.

Despite everything, it was quite beautiful.

Both the cottage and the stone fence surrounding it were overgrown with ivy and wild flowers, making it look like something out of a fairy tale. Like a place full of fey and fauns and nymphs. Perhaps a domain of a friendly but mischievous witch? Although that would make him either the witch or a trespasser, so he was more onboard with the fey scenario.

The house itself was spacious and bright, with tall windows bathing it in sunlight. At this point all it did was empathise the dust filling the air, but Nils could imagine sitting there, on a clean wooden floor, drinking a coffee. Perhaps a person would come over, humming something and wrapping hands around him and-

Nope, he was not going there. Back to daydreaming about house renovation. A much more realistic goal to accomplish.

There was also a greenhouse, which Nils found to be just the most beautiful place. It was actually the thing that made him decide to buy this piece of garbage property. 

Part of the glass wall was broken by a falling branch, blending the garden and the greenhouse into one. Weeds mixed with flowers, birds and lizards moved in. Amongst them, he found some metal furniture, unmoved for over twenty years. It was beautiful, eerie and thrilling, all at once.

Still draped over the steering wheel, Nils slowly closed his eyes.

The Berrybog Cottage was his second chance at life

With this thought, he drifted away to sleep. Because for now, it was also an exhausting piece of work.


	2. The Drifter

Nils woke up with a start. It took him a while to fully understand the situation he was in. He fell asleep in the car, in front of his house. Jesus, how tired was he?

Somebody was knocking on the window.

Annoyed both at himself and the person that was disturbing him, he lifted his head, cringing at pain that shot up his neck. Outside the window there was a tall man, bathed in the warm light of the setting sun. It took Nils a few seconds to adjust his eyes and take in the features of the man that was looking at him from above. He had brown hair and a handsome face with a bit of stubble, but his features were distorted by a grimace, with a surprising amount of disgust behind it.

Nils rolled down his window and asked, “What?”, cringing at the rough sound of his own voice. 

“What are you doing here?” The guy replied with a question.

Nils shrugged and rubbed his eyes. “Sleeping? It wasn’t his proudest moment, but the truth was still less embarrassing than any lie he could have come up with.

“I can see that.” The stranger huffed, as if Nils was the irrational one. “This is no place for loitering.”

“...what?” Nils’ was trying to get his brain to wake up and process things that were being said. What the hell was this guy talking about?

“Go away, we don’t need your kind here.”

Okay, that was uncalled for. Did this guy had an issue with his foreigner thing or his gay thing? And how would he even learn about either of these, with how thorough Nils was with deleting all of his social media? Annoyed, tired and confused he got out of the car, opening the driver side door with more force than necessary and hitting the man’s shin in the process. 

If anybody asked, he would say that it was an accident, but since nobody did, he didn’t have to lie.

Despite Nils standing at his full height, the asshole was still looking down at him, making the other man once again curse his height. Or the lack of it. The guy was both taller and broader than Nils, but he was not going to let himself be bullied. Hostility clear in his voice, he got right in the stranger’s face and said, “What the _fuck_ are you talking about?”

The guy looked surprised for a second, but he stood his ground. He quickly got a hold of himself and answered, “Go. Away. This is a private property, we don’t want drifters coming here and causing trouble.”

Finally, something clicked in Nils’ head. The sorry state of his clothes and face, the beat up Toyota he was driving, the whole.... Well, ‘sleeping in a car’ part. “I’m not homeless, you asshole!” He shouted right in the guy’s face. “I live here!”

The man snorted, disbelief clear on his face. “Sure, that’s why you’ve been sleeping in your car. Assuming it even is your car.”

Nils was so close to just punching the guy, but remembering that he has to actually live here, he gritted his teeth and pulled out a set of keys instead. “Okay, look. Keys to the house.” He dangled them in front of the stranger. “Can you fuck off now?

The guy did not fuck off. Instead, he tapped his chin, still looking at Nils with suspicion. “How do I know it’s the keys to this house? It could be just some random set.”

“Oh for…” Nils gritted his teeth harder than it was probably healthy. “Fine!”

Not bothering to lock the car, he walked through the open gate to the front entrance, the other man following behind him. For a few seconds, the old lock wouldn’t budge and Nils could just feel the other guy’s judging gaze on his back. Finally, with a loud creek, the door opened.

“Happy?” Nils asked, spreading his hands, “Or do you need to see the deed of ownership?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to taking a look at it.” The stranger replied with a mocking grin, not even slightly deterred.

Nils gave him a blank stare and shut the door in his face.

***

Ciaran didn’t plan to be an asshole.

When he saw a car on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, he was actually quite concerned, especially when he noticed that the driver wasn’t moving and had their head on the wheel. Was there an accident? Did they need medical attention?

Seeing that the dirty, unkempt man was just sleeping there, his blood immediately started to boil. Here he was, worried sick for the stranger, and it was just some bum taking a nap. Could anyone really blame him for being a little annoyed?

Apparently, the driver could. When he stepped out, his angry, blue eyes right in Ciaran’s face, the taller man had to take a moment to regain composure. Because of the unexpected anger and nothing else, of course. And then the drifter hit him with the door, no doubt intentionally, and now his leg hurt and he _did_ intend to do a good thing, so who was the real asshole here?

Probably still Ciaran, but he would be the last person to admit that. Plus, even if the new neighbour wasn’t homeless, he was still messy, aggressive and _slept in a car_. For no reason! The guy was trouble and Ciaran didn’t like that at all. He’s definitely gonna need to get a closer look at him. 

And it had nothing to do with the stranger’s bright eyes.

***

Nils would love to say that the next three days passed in a blur, but tragically, they did not. Instead, they were filled with bugs, dust and an assortment of room-temperature snacks. Nils didn’t yet buy any cooking utensils and he unceremoniously threw away all of the old ones when he found a mouse staring at him from a thirty year old pan. 

He should probably replace all of the kitchen appliances anyway - how old does an oven have to be, before it spontaneously combusts?

Either way, Nils didn’t really care about his food situation. At least it was convenient and he was rarely hungry anyway. Cleaning situation was more of a problem, but he was slowly and steadily dealing with it, managing to get the main building to a standard that could be described as “liveable”, if the person describing it was feeling generous. 

Now, his _social_ situation was a whole other story. The only person he could tell about his interaction with the asshole was Alexander. After all, there weren’t many people from his old life that he could call and he was definitely not going to tell any of his new acquaintances _‘I fell asleep in a car and then shouted at some guy that might be your husband or mayor or god knows what’_. Luckily, Alexander listened to the story patiently, only making Nils feel like he was judged from hundreds of kilometers away at the hitting-the-guy-with-the-door part. Which, okay, he might deserve that. 

The conversation still did make him feel a little better - Alexander’s calming voice always had this effect on him. He assured Nils that he was sure he looked ‘fine’ and joked that when he moves in, he’s going to ‘have words’ with the stranger. Well, he sounded quite serious as he was saying that, but that was how he always sounded, so Nils decided it was a joke anyway.

He didn’t really feel the need to interact with any real people, but he did constantly find new issues to fix or things that he was lacking, so he got into a habit of making daily trips into the town. Some residents of Edenderry were staring at him, not used to newcomers, but he would nonetheless make his way into the general store. Once he was there, he would usually spend some time talking with the staff, until someone else came in and they had to actually do their job. Sinead would tell him about the area, Bernadette would share rumors about people he didn’t know and he would tell them a little bit about himself in return.

It was one of these trips, when Bernadette leaned on the counter and asked: “Have you been to the _Tap_ yet?”

When Nils shook his head with clear confusion, she clapped her hands in excitement and exclaimed, “Oh, you have to come with us today! Saturdays always mean a full house, you can meet everybody!”

The man turned to Sinead, looking for help, but she just shrugged and gave him the most basic explanation, “It’s the local bar. Not the most creative name, but the place is fun.” Seeing his hesitation, she added, “They also serve food.”

Nils’ stomach stirred at that. He didn’t like crowds, but it would be nice to actually eat something that was not a bag of Cheetos. The old Nils would refuse the offer without paying it any mind, but there was a reason why he quit this life and became a new Nils.

Determined to do better on his second try, he said, “Yeah, sure. Just tell me how to get there.”


	3. The Tap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about no episode last week, real life got all sorts of crazy.
> 
> But hey, here's the longest chapter yet! And we're finally getting on with the main plot!

Luckily for Nils, the  _ Tap  _ stood on the outskirts of the village, about half an hour of walking from the Berrybog Cottage. It was an older building with a wooden facade, looking exactly how Nils imagined a local Irish pub to look, which he found all kinds of delightful. He could hear the sound of voices and music even before he saw the place, but was still unprepared for the assault on his senses when he opened the door. 

The pub was loud and bright, absolutely full of people. Every table and bar seat was occupied and Nils felt like saying that  _ everyone  _ was there wouldn’t be an exaggeration. The air was warm and heavy, bringing with it the smell of food and beer, a stark contrast to the crisp evening outside. 

As Nils entered the room, he couldn’t shake the now familiar feeling of other people staring at him. One time, he asked Sinead about it and she said that the locals were just interested in the new neighbour, but it did little to put him at ease.

“Nils!”

The familiar voice belonged to Bernadette, who was waving at him from one of the tables in the further corner of the pub, where she sat with Sinead and three pints of beer. Glad to be saved from this awkward predicament, he hurried straight to them. 

“Hey. This is certainly… popular.” He said with a hesitation.

“Well, it’s not like there’s plenty of places to drink around here,” said Bernadette, “and I  _ might  _ have told a few people they will get a chance to meet you.”

Nils nodded, although he could not understand the fascination Edenderry had with rumors and anything new happening in the neighbourhood. Would it happen to him, if he spent his entire life with the same few people? 

Still, the novelty of it had to go away at some point. Right?

***

It was a few beers later and Nils was surprised by how much he was enjoying himself. During the evening he was introduced to quite a few people, including the bartender, all of which were nothing but welcoming. Even now, standing next to the bar counter and waiting for his glass, he felt unusually content. 

However, it was not meant to last for long. It might have been his antipathy towards this voice, but he heard the quiet  _ “Oh, wow, _ ” coming from behind him clear as the day, despite the noise of the pub. He slowly turned around, already certain of who he was going to see. And there he was, the stranger from before, looking straight at him.

“What? The hell was that about?” Nils asked.

The stranger looked almost surprised that he was heard, but he quickly put a grin back on his handsome face and said, “Nothing. I’m just surprised that you really do own a shower.”

“No, I just waited for the layer of dirt to get so thick that it fell off by itself.” Nils snarled back and rolled his eyes. “Asshole.”

“It’s Ciaran, actually.”

“I did not ask and I do not care.” The only reason Nils would care was to put a name on the guy, who he decided was his new nemesis. Which he could now do. Great.

“Oh? I’m hurt.” Ciaran exclaimed, dramatically clutching his chest.

“Not as hurt as I would like you to be.” Nils murmured, loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to pretend that he didn’t mean to. The other man just laughed, before grabbing his pint and leaving.

***

“What I’m saying,” Bernadette shouted over the noise of the crowd, slurring slightly. “Is that you clean up  _ good _ .”

Sinead rolled her eyes internally. The girl wasn’t even a lightweight, but they all already put enough pints in themselves and her confidence grew proportionally to the alcohol content of her blood.

Although, this time, Sinead did have to agree with her. It was the first time they saw the young man not covered in dust, sweat or garden soil. He still had dark circles under his eyes and the general air of tiredness around him, but with clean hair and clothes he looked like a regular person, not a crazy hermit.

“Thanks!” Nils shouted back. A generous person might have assumed that his cheeks were red from heat and alcohol, but Sinead could see the embarrassment beneath it. “You too.” He paused. “Both of you.” Another pause. “Not that you need to clean up! You always look good!” 

Before he could embarrass himself further, he decided to grab another spoonful of stew, stopping his mouth from talking any more. Which, Sinead thought, was very smart of him. Meanwhile, Bernadette started to giggle like a fourteen-year-old, leaving the older woman the only person at their table capable of continuing the conversation.

“Relax.” Sinead sighted, “Our work clothes aren’t exactly what you would call glamorous.”

“You still look good!” Nils exclaimed, slamming his spoon down, determined to compliment them. “Not that it’s difficult, but certainly better than I do at work.”

“What  _ do  _ you even do?” Bernadette asked, leaning halfway across the table.

“Um. I meant, the way I do when I’m working on the house. But, since you asked… ” Nils hesitated for a second, “I’m a writer.”

“Oh! Cool! Maybe I read something of yours!”

“No. I don’t think so.”

Sinead thought that he didn’t seem to have a lot of confidence in his craft, but Bernadette wasn’t deterred by this. “Come on, give me a hint. What kind of books do you write?” She asked.

“It’s... complicated.” He answered and, before either woman had a chance to continue this line of questioning, got up from his chair. “I gotta get some air, be right back.”

And with that, he was gone from the table.

***

Nils was mentally kicking himself. Gods, he should have never said that he’s a writer, what the hell was wrong with him? Just how stupid was he?

The pathetic part was, he knew exactly why he did it. He moved here to have a new life and, in this new life, this is what he wanted to do - be a writer. Not some… boring corporate employee who had to explain his job for ten minutes, because it was so pointless and complicated. He wanted to be a writer, living in a small cottage on the Irish coast, maybe with a cat or something, and he was going to become that, god dammit! 

So, it wasn’t technically a lie, but maybe he shouldn’t tell people that he’s a writer before he puts at least one sentence down on paper.

Stumbling slightly, Nils made his way to the exit and stepped outside. He was met by the cold, evening breeze, but what sobered him up even more was a familiar laughter. Next to the entrance of the _Tap_ stood a small gathering of smoking people, surrounding a bucket that they were using as an ashtray. Nils already met most of the group and found them quite likeable, but amongst them, right in front of him, stood Ciaran. Because of course he would be a smoker, of course. 

If he was less awkward or more drunk, Nils would just immediately go back in, but it would make him look… weird. Which, he really didn’t want to get the reputation of a weird recluse from the hills, who runs as soon as he sees people. Even though it might be an accurate description. Instead, he put on the best smile he could muster and walked up to them.

The group didn’t mind, parting a little to include him in their circle. Two people nodded at Nils, but nobody interrupted whatever story was being told and he once again, he was surprised by how easily he fit in. 

The conversation went on perfectly fine - he talked, he listened, he did not punch Ciaran in his stupid face, despite the overwhelming urge to do  _ something  _ every time he heard the man’s laugh. 

That was, until they moved onto the subject of two deer from a nearby forest.

“I’m telling you, we always see them together.” said… James? Nils was 97% sure it was James, although there was about a 3% chance for a Jack. “Definitely the same two ones. It’s mighty weird.”

“Maybe they’re gay.” Nils joked, without giving it much thought. Hey, who knows, maybe they really were? At least he wouldn’t be the only one in this place.

In response, he got a few smiles and light chuckles, which seemed like a perfectly reasonable reaction to that kind of light-hearted, not-actually-that-funny remark. What was far less reasonable was the dark glare Ciaran gave him. Now he looked much more like the guy that told him to get out of the town than this friendly bar persona.

“What? Not funny?” Nils asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I don’t find  _ gay deer  _ to be a particularly funny joke.” 

Wait, was the mere suggestion of something being gay enough to make him so angry? Was he not only a presumptuous asshole, but homophobic on top of that? Was that where his dislike of Nils came from?

“I’m sorry, did you find it  _ offensive _ ?” The shorter man replied in a mocking tone. The tension between them was becoming clear to everybody present and the small gathering quieted down, waiting to see how it was going to resolve. Not many bar fights in Edenderry, he supposed. 

“You know what? Yeah, I did.” Ciaran answered, as he took a step towards him. 

“Give me a break,” Nils groaned, refusing to back off even an inch, “You seriously have a problem with that?”

“I have a problem with you being--”

Suddenly, a shrill sound broke through the silence, stopping Ciaran before he could finish his sentence. While someone from the group tried to pull the other man back, Nils realised that the noise was coming out of his own pocket. He pulled out his phone and looked at the caller ID. Then, he looked at Ciaran. Fuck it, he wouldn’t be threatened by this asshole and he was going to show it!

Then he got an idea. 

“Excuse me,” he said in a calm voice. “It’s my partner. _He_ is moving in by the end of the month.”

It was not a good idea.


	4. The Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little more chaotic, but so is being drunk and making bad choices in an Irish bar.

Ciaran did not know what to think, which was rare enough to make him worried. He was a huge fan of having opinions and everyone who knew him was painfully aware of that. However, when it came to Nils, all of his assumptions turned out to be wrong, leaving him at a loss. 

To make matters worse, everybody who met the other man seemed to only have good things to say about him. While his own mother described him as  _ ‘a very nice young man _ ’, all Ciaran got from Nils was snark and sarcasm. Which, perhaps, was fair, considering that every conversation they had ended in a disaster. 

First, there was the homeless thing. Then, Ciaran got caught staring at him in the pub and panicked. And now they almost got into a fight because Nils was making a homophobic joke. In  _ Ciaran’s  _ town, in  _ Ciaran’s  _ presence. So of course he had to step in and let Nils know that maybe he expected the countryside to be as conservative as he was, but this sort of thing won’t slide here.

Except, it turned out Nils… was… not? He had a boyfriend, so he couldn’t really be homophobic, but then why did he joke about those thing? Unless he was also extremely self-hating, which Ciaran could believe. No person who respected themselves would go out looking the way he did.

With a heavy sigh, Ciaran crushed his cigarette and went back inside. This was a lot to process.

***

“Alexander, hi.” Nils huffed into his phone, after making his way to the side of the pub. Hiding away from the glow of the porch light, he leaned on the wooden wall, barely containing the desire to slide down it and sit on the ground. His head was spinning. “You have some timing.”

“I do?” There was concern in Alexander’s voice and Nils’ heart skipped a beat. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Sure. I just got into a fight with  _ Ciaran _ .” Even with no one to see it, he rolled his eyes. Which was a bad idea, considering how sick it made him feel. Fuck, he’s never drinking again.

“Ciaran?” Alexander asked. 

Right, Nils didn’t have time to update him on the name. “The asshole from earlier.” He explained.

“Oh.” Alexander’s tone got several degrees colder. “What happened?”

Nils hesitated, trying to decide how much to say. The responsible part of him knew that he should explain what exactly went on, but the drunken part really didn’t want to. 

“Nothing. We’ve been drinking and he has a problem with...”  _ Gay people _ . “Me.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that.” Alexander paused for a second. “I’ll be there soon.”

Even such a small comfort made Nils feel warm inside. God, he was pathetic. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to change the subject, “Right, the move. Is that what you were calling about?”

“Ah, yes. I was wondering…” Alexander had a few questions about Ireland and the house, which Nils answered in a lot of unnecessary detail. Partially because he was excited about those things and partially because he wanted an excuse to stay outside for a little longer. 

About fifteen minutes later, they said their goodbyes and ended the call, leaving Nils alone with his thoughts. Which was never a good thing.

He didn’t  _ technically  _ lie to Ciaran, Alexander was his partner and they were going to be living together. It was just… not the romantic kind of a partnership, but more of a work-together-on-a-project-that-hopefully-earns-some-money-because-he-really-has-to-pay-that-house-off one. 

Not that Nils wouldn’t be interested in the romantic kind, quite the opposite. Tragically, he was sure that Alexander was straight. They never talked about it outright, but it was a pretty safe bet, considering his lack of interest in men and the one long-time girlfriend he had. 

That left Nils pining, feeling sorry for himself and paying a little too much attention to his best friend’s dating habits. 

Considering that, it would be all kinds of awkward if he told Alexander what exactly happened. He was going to fix it before his arrival anyway - he’ll just say it was a misunderstanding and give Ciaran shit for making assumptions. Nils decided that seeing the Irishman’s shocked face as he mentioned his ‘partner’ was worth any consequence.

He was about to change his mind. 

***

When Nils stepped back into the pub, some of the patrons were looking at him. Again. This time, it made him feel a lot more nervous. He was sure that as he made rounds and met them, they eased up on the staring thing. Did they hear about the fight? Did they also have a problem with him? Was his night about to get much, much worse?

With a heart in his throa and indifference on his face, Nils started to walk back to their corner table. He was almost there, his hand pulling out a chair, Sinead right in front of him, when someone caught him from behind.

“Niiiiiils,” Bernadette whined right into his ear, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, “why didn’t you tell us you like guys?”

He was too busy having a heart attack to come up with a reply, so she kept going, “Did you think that just because we live in a small town we would have a problem with that?”

_ Yes.  _ “No!” Nils answered, his brain starting to catch up with the conversation. “Wait, are you telling me you don’t mind?”

“Of course we don’t.” Sinead answered from the other side of the table, hiding her smile behind a beer glass. “Bernie might be disappointed, but…”

“But we don’t care!” Bernadette interrupted, using her own beer to point at the other woman. “Sinead’s son is gay!”

“Oh.” Nils wasn’t even going to try unpacking the disappointment part, but he did remember Sinead mentioning her son once or twice. “I didn’t know that.”

“He came out a few years ago. Everybody has been very accepting.” The older woman nodded.

Bernadette laughed, finally letting go of him, and dropped onto her chair. “They have to, if they enjoy buying groceries.”

“Elijah Muckley.” Sinead narrowed her eyes as she said that name, her voice dripping with venom. 

“Who?” Nils asked while sitting down, finally letting his legs rest.

Bernie laughed more. “He tried to start some shit back then. We heard about it and now he’s not allowed in the store. He has to drive to the next town any time he needs something, which is quite a drastic punishment.”

“Fionn won’t serve him either.” Sinead added. “What a darling.”

As she said that, Bernadette giggled, glancing in the direction of the bartender. Nils would agree that he seemed nice, but if the place really had such a policy, why did Ciaran feel free to be so openly aggressive?

“Yeah. Sure.” He snorted. 

Sinead gave him a strange look, but Bernadette didn’t notice that anything was amiss. She rested her head on her hands and in a cheeky voice said, “Speaking about  _ darlings _ …” Gods, Nils didn’t like where this was going. “You didn’t tell us anything about that boyfriend of yours either!”

This was it. This was the part where he came clean. This was the moment he told them he was single, he just lied about having a boyfriend, even though it technically wasn’t a lie, because he assumed that everybody would be an asshole about that, but actually they were very nice and  _ he  _ was the asshole and Sinead’s son was gay too so him using the ‘partner’ thing in a vengeful way will probably come out as even worse and now he alienated his only two friends in this place and the entire town too and he has to live in a place where everybody hates him and he can’t buy any groceries.

“His name is Alexander.” Nils answered, as soon as his consciousness returned to his body. “He’s an artist. We’ve known each other for years. He’s coming here in a month.”

And when he does, he’s going to  _ kill _ Nils. 

“How did you guys even hear about it?” He asked, hoping to change the subject.

Without any embarrassment Sinead answered, “James-” So at least Nils was right about the familiar smoker’s name being James. Which was definitely not the part he should be focusing on. “-told Emily, Emily told Maisie, Maisie told me and I told Bernadette.” 

“I’ve been gone for twenty minutes.” Nils uttered, equal parts impressed and terrified by the gossiping power of Edenderry.

“Which gave me plenty of time to tell a few other people.” Bernadette shrugged. “So  _ Alexander _ , is he hot?”

Nils just groaned and laid his head onto the table, hiding his face. He was way too drunk for this evening to continue.


	5. The Splinter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time it's a long one!
> 
> TW: blood I guess, though nothing too graphic

It was late afternoon when Ciaran finally headed to his last destination of the day. The job shouldn’t take long, but he was dreading it too much to enjoy the perspective of freedom that came after. 

The reason for it was simple - this order was to be delivered to the Berrybog Cottage.

When Ciaran first saw the delivery address on his schedule, his initial instinct was to refuse the job. He was just helping out, he didn’t have to go there! He was sure that Sebastien knew what happened between him and Nils - at this point, who didn’t? - and gave him the task as a joke.

Which was fine, because Ciaran was not going to take the bait. He would be very professional and not hide from Nils. Although in a small act of spite, he did put the house at the very end of his route. 

A few minutes later, Ciaran arrived at the cottage. He parked the borrowed van in front of the property, took a deep breath, walked up to the door and knocked. 

Nils opened the door.

Ciaran smiled and opened his mouth.

Nils closed the door.

Smiling through clenched teeth, Ciaran knocked again, this time with more force behind it. He could swear he heard an annoyed grunt, but the door swung open despite it.

“The hell do you want?” Nils asked, raising one eyebrow. 

It’s been over a week since the last time they saw each other in the pub, which was clearly enough time for Nils to go back to looking like a homeless insomniac. He was wearing ripped jeans and a tank top with a stained flannel shirt over it. His hair was a mess and Ciaran regretted that he didn’t have a comb he could throw at him. With some luck, he would hit him in the face.

“Good morning to you too,” said Ciaran, looking down at his clipboard, “I have a delivery for Nils… Cavendish?”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s for me.” Judging by the confusion on his face, Nils clearly didn’t expect that to be the case. What did he think Ciaran would say, ‘ _I came here to throw hands’?_ “Just bring it in.”

With that, he went back inside, leaving the door open. Ciaran’s smile slipped. _‘Just bring it in’_ , really? Nils ordered enough stuff to open a hardware store and left him with a dubious pleasure of hauling all the tools, crates, cans of paint and planks alone. Would it be too much human decency to help carry his own stuff?

Despite the temptation to just drive away, Ciaran picked up the first box and brought it to the house. Nils was waiting for him, leaning against the wall of an empty entryway. He glanced at the label of the box, pointed further inside and said, “That one goes in the kitchen.”

On one hand, Ciaran was pretty sure his job only required him to bring it to the door. On the other, the Berrybog Cottage was enough of a local legend to make him want to see more of it.

After a short duel, curiosity won against pride and he stepped inside.

At first, Ciaran assumed that it was just the hall that didn’t have any furniture, but as he stepped into the first room, he found it just as empty. It was spacious and bright, with the glow of the slowly setting sun coming in through the high windows. One of the walls was halfway covered in a dark blue paint and on the floor, dangerously close to the fresh layer of paint, laid an open laptop. 

Other than that, there was quite literally nothing.

Ciaran whistled and tried to glance into other rooms. “I heard that minimalism is in fashion, but don’t you think you’re taking it a bit too far?”

Nils, who was following behind him, stared at Ciaran without blinking, “Hilarious,” he answered with an extremely unamused expression, “I’m going to build my own furniture.”

Unimpressed, Ciaran snorted. “Sure. Meanwhile, I’m certain your boyfriend will love sleeping on the floor.”

“I’m not an animal, I have a mattress.” said Nils, folding his arms. He went a little red on the face, which Ciaran found _almost_ cute.

“Oh, a mattress!” The Irishman exclaimed. “That changes everything!”

Judging by the angry gaze, Nils was much better at being sarcastic than receiving some sarcasm back. “Just do your goddamn job, will you?” He grumbled, walking towards the kitchen.

Surprisingly, the room was not only furnished with appliances, but they all seemed brand new - apparently Nils was not confident enough in his skill as a carpenter to attempt making a fridge or an oven. 

Ciaran left the box on the floor, and went back to pick up another package. Once again, Nils looked at what he was carrying and directed him to another part of the house, otherwise not doing anything. Finally, after being ordered to bring a heavy wooden crate upstairs, Ciaran snapped. “Are you not going to help at all?”

“Am I not paying you to do that?” Nils shrugged, making no move to assist Ciaran. 

The other man cursed under his breath and started walking upstairs. His arms were already aching from the previous packages and he had to focus to not lose his balance, walking up the narrow steps, with a crate obscuring half of his vision. He could survive falling down, but his ego wouldn’t.

In what felt like eternity, he finally made it. From what he could see, the first floor wasn’t doing much butter than the lower one. From his position on top of the stairs he could see through an open door to what he assumed to be a bedroom. Clothes and food wrappers were strewn around the room, surrounding two open luggages. Ciaran did have to give Nils a little credit though - there really was a mattress laying on the floor. It even looked like it had a bedsheet! 

Deciding that he had done enough snooping, Ciaran bent down to put the box down. He was just about to lay it on the floor, when he suddenly heard a voice coming from right behind him.

“Could you-”

Surprised by the sound and its proximity, Ciaran let go of the crate. One of its sharp, wooden edges scratched painfully against his palm as it dropped the remaining few centimeters. 

“-move?” At the same time, Nils finished his sentence. 

Ciaran saw red, his body tired and his hand burning. “If you’re determined to be a useless, annoying little prick, the least you could do is not get in my way!” He shouted, turning around.

Nils was looking at Ciaran with his mouth clenched. In his arms he was holding a few planks that seemed to barely fit in the corridor, especially with the other man standing in his way.

Ciaran would never admit to being wrong, but luckily for him, Nils focused on an entirely different part of the situation. “You’re bleeding,” he said.

That was not the reply Ciaran expected. “What?”

“Your hand. You’re gonna get blood all over my floor.” That was more like it.

***

Contrary to what his family might believe, Nils wasn’t completely heartless and he was not going to kick an injured man out of his house. Even though, at this moment, there was nothing he wanted more. 

Plus, if Ciaran died of blood loss or something, with people knowing about the animosity between them, Nils would definitely be accused of murder. So he put off kicking his ass for later and all but dragged the stunned man into the bathroom. Show him how _‘useless’_ and _‘annoying’_ he is.

Nils sat Ciaran down on the edge of the high bathtub, right next to the sink, and put his palm under the running water to clean the excess blood. That seemed to wake Ciaran up, because he hissed and tried to pull his hand back, but Nils kept an iron grip on his wrist.

“Calm the fuck down, I’m trying to help,” he growled, eyes focused on the wound, “you’re bleeding like a pig and you've got a small branch worth of splinters.”

That earned Nils enough silence to grab some tweezers and position them both in peace, so that he could take care of the wound. Just as he grabbed the first splinter, he glanced up and suddenly realised the strange intimacy of their situation. Nils was standing right in front of Ciaran, still holding his palm in his hands. With the other man sitting down, they were on the same eye level, their faces closer than usual. With both of them quiet, it was the most peaceful it has ever been between them.

Ciaran opened his mouth to say something.

Nils cut in before he had a chance to do that, “If whatever sentence you’re planning to say contains the word ‘nurse’, I will push you out of the window.” 

Judging by the way Ciaran closed his mouth and grinned, it did contain it. “I was going to say that I didn’t expect you to be good at it.” He answered after a few seconds. “Although your bedside manner- ouch!”

Nils roughly pulled out the sprinter. “I’m just not letting you die in my house. I don’t need neither a ghost nor a lawsuit.”

Shifting on the edge of the bathtub, Ciaran shot back, “Don’t flatter yourself, I would never choose this place to haunt.”

“I don’t think you get to pick. So if you don’t want to spend eternity with me, _stop squirming._ ” 

“Nice to see that you care.” Ciaran answered, still squirming.

“Are you kidding me? Do you know how much a _‘delivery guy died here’_ story would drive the property value down?”

“I’m not a delivery guy.”

“Bold words for someone with a delivery van parked in front of my house.” 

“I borrowed it. I’m a freelancer.”

“A freelancer? Like a journalist or some shit?”

“Or some shit. People around here call me up when they need something done, usually physical stuff.”

Nils didn’t even notice when the conversation started to become comfortable. Without realising it, he slipped into a more relaxed persona. “ _Physical stuff_ , hmm?” he said in a suggestive tone, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Oh come on. That’s gross.” Ciaran cringed, almost pulling his hand away again. “And just as I was forgetting how much I dislike you.”

 _‘I don’t like myself either’_ Nils thought to himself, but what came out of his mouth was, “The feeling’s mutual.” He was mentally kicking himself for forgetting who he was talking to. He didn’t mean the joke in an offensive way, it was just the kind of thing he and his friends would say. “I said stop squirming!” With that, Nils jabbed the pincers into Ciaran’s palm a little harder than necessary. 

“Ouch, what the hell is wrong with you?” This time, the other man pulled his hand back, inspecting his injured palm. “Jesus, you did that on purpose! How does my mother even like you?”

“Who?” Nils furrowed his brows.

Ciaran just gave him an annoyed look, still clutching his own hand. “My mother?” 

“That doesn’t tell me nearly as much as you think it does.” Nils sighted, annoyance at the other man back at the full strength. Maybe he _should_ have let him leave and drive with his palm bloody and full of splinters, that would teach him.

“Medium build? Owns the grocery store? Apparently decided to adopt you?” 

That gave Nils a pause.

“Sinead? Sinead is your mother?”


	6. The Scarf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit late and a little bit short, but real life got in the way.

“Yeah.” Ciaran looked at Nils like _he_ was the stupid one. “Didn’t you know that?”

“No!” Nils exclaimed. Now that he looked at Ciaran, he could see the similarities between him and Sinead - the same slightly crooked nose, same green eyes, same shade of brown hair that seemed almost red in the sun... “How the hell are you her son?”

Ciaran snorted. “When two people love each other very much, they do a special hug--”

“That’s not what I meant!” Nils shouted, his face growing red. If Ciaran was the son he heard about, that would mean… “Do you have any siblings?” he asked, with the last spark of hope. Maybe Sinead had multiple children and he wouldn’t have to deal with the idea of Ciaran being gay. 

“No.” Ciaran sighted. “Do you have any other personal questions I can answer?”

“I…” He did, actually. He had multiple questions. He just didn’t want to say any of them out loud. “Just let me finish with your hand and get out of my house.” He finished, trying to hide the awkwardness, and gestured in Ciaran’s general direction.

In a move that surprised both of them, the other man did actually give him his hand back. The atmosphere was much more heavy than when they began the impromptu medical procedure, but Nils managed to pull the remaining few splinters out.

“We should probably… uh, clean it out? Wait here.” He said and left the bathroom in a hurry, his lack of confidence doing nothing to soothe Ciaran’s nerves.

“Where else would I wait?” Ciaran shouted after him, spreading his hands, “You don’t have any furniture!”

Annoyance still bubbling, he waited for Nils to return. He regretted not making a run for it, as soon as he saw what the other man brought back with him.

“Vodka? You seriously don’t have anything better?” Ciaran said as he considered making a run for the door. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you prefer a twenty-year-old whiskey?” Nils rolled his eyes, putting down the bottle and a long piece of cloth he brought from his bedroom. “Relax, I’ve seen them do it in movies.”

“In movies! Great! Now, that’s making me trust you!” Ciaran said through gritted teeth, but, nonetheless, tried to hold his hand still over the sink. 

Seeing that, Nils generously poured vodka all over Ciaran’s wound, feeling more sorry for the lost alcohol than the other man’s hand. Even though he really did mean well, he couldn’t stop the small pang of satisfaction when the other man hissed in pain. 

“Don’t be a baby, I’m almost done.” Nils said, unrolling the piece of blue cloth.

Ciaran sent both the item and the man holding it a judging look. “You don’t have any bandages?”

Nils sighted deeply. If he didn’t already get this far, he would revisit the idea of pushing Ciaran out the window. “Hey, I’ve been here less than two weeks. I didn’t need it, because I wasn’t stupid enough to make myself bleed like a slaughtered pig.” He grabbed Ciaran’s hand again. “It’s either the scarf or like ten band-aids. And I don’t have that many band-aids.”

“What _do_ you even have in this house?” 

“An ungrateful bastard.” Nils answered, fighting an inner battle between tying the scarf too tight and being a decent human being. Luckily for Ciaran’s hand, the latter was winning, even as Nils mourned his only scarf. The lower layers of the light blue material were already stained with blood, which he doubted would be easy to wash off.

“Okay, done.” Nils said, finishing his wrapping with a small knot. “Although you should probably still have a doctor take a look at it, I’m not a licensed anything.”

“Aren’t you being a little overdramatic?” Ciaran asked, inspecting the makeshift dressing.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Please, feel free to get titanus, that’s the manly thing to do.” Nils snapped at him. “Just get the hell out of my house.”

He didn’t have to repeat himself - Ciaran chuckled at his words, jumped down from his place at the edge of the bathtub and left the room without as much as a goodbye, leaving the other man alone to clean up the mess. Nils only started to relax when he heard the car engine starting and the delivery van driving away. Looking at the spots of drying blood like it personally offended him - which, it kind of did - he decided to deal with it later. Or just never use that bathroom again.

***

During the next two weeks, Nils eventually did clean it up. He had enough to explain to Alexander even without the upstairs bathroom looking like a Tarantino film set. 

The explanation was another problem. Nils still couldn’t get himself to fix the mistake regarding their relationship, either by telling everything it to his best friend or to the locals - because _of course_ everybody heard about it, to the point where it became old news. 

Somehow, the fact that people became more casual regarding him and his relationship, made all of it even more difficult. Nils realised that he has long past the moment when explaining the situation would be socially acceptable and now he just dug himself deeper any time the others asked about his boyfriend. And they did bring it up a lot. Usually in a friendly, casual way, which made it even worse.

 _“How’s the boyfriend?”_ Fionn asked, while pouring Nils a beer. Nils said that the boyfriend is working on a new project, which was true.

 _“What’s Alexander like?”_ Bernadette asked, when they visited Sinead for tea. Nils said that he is nice and even-tempered, which was also true.

 _“Jesus, are you this rough with your ‘partner’?”_ Ciaran asked, after Nils shoulder checked him that one time. Nils said that he will push Ciaran in front of a moving car, and if there are no cars, he will get into a car and run him over himself. Which was a slight exaggeration.

Nils wasn’t doing much better when it came to the house either. He had no woodworking experience and Youtube turned out to be a less proficient teacher than expected. Finally, after a few complete failures, he managed to make a decent square table, which got him so excited that he made two more of them. 

As Nils was pondering the idea of making a wooden stool, because he could just make the same table but _smaller_ , his phone rang.

“Yeah?” He asked, picking it up.

“Hi.” Alexander answered. “My flight just landed.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folk, since this story hit a 100 hits - huge thanks to everybody who checked it out, especially to the ones that left kudos or comments. The fact that someone is reading my original work is incredibly motivating!


	7. The Stairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just 1700 words of Nils panicking and dodging the conseqences of his actions

Nils’ heart started to beat faster at the sound of Alexander’s voice. He was here, in Ireland, just a bus ride away and ready to move in. It would take him about three hours to get from Dublin Airport to Edenderry, which meant that Nils had about three hours and five minutes of relatively peaceful and unproblematic life here left. 

Well, peaceful and unproblematic might be an overstatement, but Nils couldn’t imagine a way in which the _‘everybody here thinks we’re dating’_ conversation doesn’t end in an even worse disaster.

“Great! I can’t wait for you to get here!” Nils almost shouted into the phone, cringing at the unnatural enthusiasm in his voice.

For a second, there was no reply, giving Nils just enough time to come up with four different scenarios in which Alexander realised something was wrong and things would go to shit, but what came out of the speaker instead was,

“Me neither.”

“Um. Cool.” Did he have to reply to Nils’ panicked declarations with sincerity? “I’ll pick you up. From the… the bus stop. Can’t wait. Bye.” 

Nils ended the call without waiting for a reply and hid his face in his hands. _‘Cool’_ , really? Talking on the phone in the twenty-first century was awkward enough on its own, he didn’t need any stupid secrets to make it worse.

***

Edenderry didn’t have a proper bus station, only a small bus stop on the main street, indicated by an old bench and a metal sign. There had to be a timetable posted on it at some point, but it was long gone, probably ripped away by some teenager. 

It was late afternoon when Nils parked his car on one of the few spots next to it. He arrived a little early, hoping to grab Alexander as soon as he left the bus. He’d rather wait an hour than be late and have his unsuspecting friend ambushed by someone like Bernadette or, god forbid, _Ciaran_ when Nils was not there. 

Twenty minutes of pacing around later, when he was almost ready to change his mind, the bus appeared from around the corner. Nils exhaled a nervous breath - in about thirty seconds he will be able to snatch Alexander into his car, avoiding any disasters, and-

“Nils! Good afternoon, darling!”

Fuck.

“Mrs. Staton!” he exclaimed, turning around on his heel to face the older woman. Where the hell did she come from? 

“I’m glad I bumped into you. I was wondering, does your offer still stand?” she asked, smiling at him with the kind of warmth that only old ladies can muster.

“My off-- oh, the cat thing?” Shit, that’s right. A few days earlier he offered to look after her cat when she goes to visit her niece in… was it April?

“Yes, of course.” Nils answered, nodding his head. He glanced back at the road. Couldn’t it wait? 

“Marvelous!” Mrs. Staton clapped her hands in delight. “You see, I was thinking about prolonging my stay a little…”

“Whatever you need,” he cut in quickly. The bus was starting to pull in, but maybe he can still lose her before Alexander gets off of it. “Let’s talk about it on Saturday, okay?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Are you in a rush?” she asked in a concerned voice, “waiting for someone?”

Nils could swear he saw a glimmer in her eyes. He started to wonder if she _knew_ , but before he could sufficiently regret telling anyone in this goddamn place when his ‘partner’ was arriving, the door of the bus opened, revealing Alexander standing on top of the short stairs.

He was an unusually tall man with slick, ashen light brown hair gathered in a bun, now messy from hours of travel. He was wearing a beige turtleneck and simple jeans, without any accessories, other than two large travel bags. The second his gray eyes fell on Nils, the shorter man’s mind was flooded with a wave of feelings that he managed to lock away during his friend’s absence. 

Faced with this image, his lie felt even more stupid. Would anybody even believe that someone as gorgeous as Alexander would be interested in a human disaster like him?

“Um. Hi,” Nils said awkwardly, painfully aware of Mrs. Staton’s piercing gaze on them, as Alexander descended the steps of the bus. For a second, Nils considered hugging his friend, but he would probably die of the onslaught of emotions, like some regency era heroine. Which is, objectively, the stupidest way to die. 

Plus, Alexander’s hands were occupied with the bags anyway, so he wouldn’t even reciprocate it.

Figures.

“Hi,” Alexander wasn’t much better at human conversations than Nils, which was one of the reasons they got along so well, but also why small talk between them _sucked_. He paused for a second, before continuing, “I missed you.”

Nils could feel his face growing red. Not for the first time he cursed his friend’s honesty and disregard for social ideas of masculinity and talking about your feelings. 

Mrs. Staton reminded them of her presence by letting out a weird, almost cooing noise and said, “Oh, is this your-”

“Alexander!” Nils interrupted before she could finish, quite literally putting himself between them. “Yeah, it’s _my_ Alexander!”

The man in question seemed to bodily twitch at that statement, making Nils pray that he will fault old-ladies-being-too-familiar for this awkward statement.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” the older woman sounded perfectly innocent again, but Nils won’t let her fool him again. Now he _knew._ “We’ve heard so much about you!”

_‘Because you people kept asking!’_ Nils wanted to shout, but, in an amazing feat of self-control, he sent an obviously fake smile her way before answering, “Well, he’s a big part of my life.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie. “And a tired part of my life, I’m sure. We better get home, you know?”

Nils didn’t even care if he was rude anymore, he just grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him in the direction of his car.

***

“She seems nice.” Alexander said, when they got out of Mrs. Staton’s earshot.

“She’s a vulture.” Nils muttered under his nose, looking around to make sure there’s no one to overhear him. “A goddamn CIA mole sent to infiltrate all of Ireland.”

“That does not sound true.”

“Oh yeah? You’ll remember my words when the Americans are waterboarding you because of what you did on May 15th, 2012.”

“How did you know about _that_?” Alexander said suddenly.

“What?” Nils whipped his head around to look at him, “I just said a random date, what the hell did you do on May 15th, 2012?”

Alexander stayed silent, only betrayed by his lip twitching in a small smile.

“Right, I keep forgetting you can make jokes.” Nils said, rolling his eyes. Here he was, hoping his boyf- his _friend_ really had some dark, exciting past. “For real though, be careful. People here are crazy when it comes to rumours.”

“I will be sure to keep it in mind when I am doing something scandalous.”

Nils snorted at the very idea of calm, mellow Alexander being involved in a scandal. Well, a scandal which Nils wasn’t the one to rope him into. 

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

They reached the beaten-up Toyota and Nils went to open the trunk. He had to fight with it for a bit, because no matter what he did, the lock would not catch on the first try - something the guy who sold him the car didn’t think to mention. As Nils managed to get it open and looked to Alexander triumphantly, he noticed another tiniest smile on the other man’s face.

“What?” Nils asked, holding the trunk lid up.

“Nothing,” Alexander replied. He took a long look at the vehicle, before starting to stuff the bags into the boot, “ _That’s_ your car?”

“No, I’m breaking in,” Nils rolled his eyes. It was the best ride he could afford and he would appreciate it if people stopped commenting on its state. “Something wrong with it?”

“No, no. I’m just… starting to understand why that guy thought you were homeless.”

They stared at each other without blinking, until Nils finally averted his gaze and groaned. What did he do to deserve this?

***

A short car ride later, they reached Berrybog Cottage. As the door closed behind them, Nils felt that he could breathe again. He did it. He got the two of them home, without his big secret coming out. Now they could relax, spend a nice evening together and in the morning Nils will make breakfast and explain everything to Ciaran - as a _‘hey, funny story’_ kind of thing.

Finally, he was sure it’s going to be alright.

***

The plan seemed to go off without a hitch. Alexander was enamored with the cottage, particularly with the greenhouse. The second he saw it, he decided to make it his personal art studio - if Nils wouldn’t mind, of course.

Nils imagined his friend with a brush and an easel, hair down, some paint on his face, surrounded by trees and flowers and immediately declared that no, he does not mind at all. 

After the tour, Alexander went to unpack some of his luggage, while Nils cooked dinner. The more accurate description would be to say that he reheated the stew he bought for them this afternoon, but since he was using the stove, Nils preferred to call it ‘cooking’.

They already put some pillows on the floor of the living room and sat (or, in Nils’ case, curled) on them in their sweatpants, watching Netflix and finishing the remains of their dinner, when the bell at the front door rang.

Nils starred in the direction of the entrance, unable to hide his horror, until the sound repeated.

“Are you expecting guests?” Alexander asked, furrowing his brows. 

Nils just shook his head and got up. If he was lucky, it would be just a serial killer.

Alexander’s mind seemed to follow a similar line of thought, because he followed right after his friend. While Nils usually found Alexander’s presence at his back reassuring, the only thing it reminded him of now was his guilt. He opened the door with the enthusiasm of a man walking into his own death.

“Surprise!” Bernadette gave him a bright smile from behind the threshold, “We wanted to say hello to your boyfriend!”


	8. The Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For each lie revealed, two more are made up.

Having friends was awful, Nils decided looking at Sinead and Bernadette standing in his doorway with wine and cake.

“You have a-” Alexander tried to ask, before being interrupted. 

“I have a bunch of friends who don’t respect my privacy,” Nils growled, failing to hide his annoyance. Glaring at the two women harder than it should be possible to glare at someone bringing you baked goods and alcohol, he continued, “I told you we’ll be at the bar on Friday.”

“Don’t look at me. I told her we should give you two some alone time.” Sinead shrugged, giving Bernadette a pointed look.

“Nonsense!” The young woman chose to ignore it, instead letting herself into the house and handing Alexander the bottle of wine she was holding. “Unless we interrupted something?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows at them.

“What are you talking about?” Alexander took a step back. He was not an expressive man by nature, but at that point his confusion at the strange woman and her suggestion was visible from outer space.

“I mean, you two weren’t-” 

“He knows what you mean!” Nils shouted, feeling his soul leave his body. Next time he’s buying an abandoned house, it’s going to be in the middle of the ocean, where nobody will ask if he and his straight best friend were fucking five minutes ago. “We weren’t!” 

“Why would-” Alexander tried again.

Nils was not having any of it. In fact, he was not having any of anything. Nobody in this goddamn house was allowed to finish a single sentence anymore, or so help him god. With more determination than brains, he grabbed Alexander by the arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen.

“Wine! We’ll open the wine! Alcohol!” He yelled, looking back at the women, “Make yourself comfortable!”

Ignoring Bernadette’s  _ ‘Where?’ _ , Nils shut the kitchen door behind himself and Alexander and leaned heavily against them, hiding his face in his hands. He took a few deep breaths, trying to stop his heart from escaping from its chest cavity.

“Nils,” Alexander asked when the shorter man seemed to calm a little, prompting Nils to peek at him from between his fingers. “What did you do?”

***

Quietly, as to not be heard by the women in their living room, Nils told Alexander everything that transpired on that fateful evening in the bar. The entire time he was looking at his friend for any sign of emotion, but the other man’s face remained blank.

For a while, when Nils finished his story, Alexander remained silent. Finally, after what felt like eternity, he asked, “Is this why that woman called me  _ ‘your’  _ Alexander?”

Nils blinked slowly. As far as possible replies went, it wasn’t that bad. “To be fair, she probably wanted to say ‘your boyfriend’.”

Alexander hummed in response, tapping one finger against his lip in an elegant gesture that Nils found terribly distracting. “What are you planning to do now?”

“Hm?” Nils tried to focus on his words instead of where they were coming from. “Wait, you’re not mad?”

“There are worse rumors than being your boyfriend”

“There are?”

Alexander gave him an  _ ‘are you kidding me’  _ look. “Yes, although right now the list of them is getting shorter. Your plan?”

“Oh. Right.” Here it goes, the ultimate make or break idea. “I was thinking. About maybe. Pretending to be together? You know, just for a while.” 

Nils looked at Alexander with anticipation, expecting him to get offended or maybe straight up leave the house and walk into the ocean. Instead, the taller man kept looking at him with an unreadable expression. Half convinced that he broke his friend, Nils started to say, “This is stupid, forget I-”

“Okay.” Alexander finally answered, his voice calm.

“What?”

“I’ll do it.”

“You mean-”

“I’ll date you.”

“Shit, really?” The habit of making the worst assumptions about any situation could be a life-saver, but it left Nils completely unprepared for things to go right. “You can pretend to be in love with me?”

Alexander’s eye twitched.

“I will manage.”

“But what if you, like, fall in love with someone else for real?” As much as it pained Nils to even consider that, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he roped his friend into some half-assed plot out of pity, without considering the consequences.

“I won’t.” 

That was… more confident than Nils expected. He thought that Alexander would be over Johanna by now, considering their relationship ended ages ago, but apparently his friend’s heart was still occupied. 

“Okay. Great. Then we can do  _ that _ ,” he gestured vaguely, not sure himself what he was trying to portray, “for a while and then have an amicable breakup. It might actually work.”

“How about you?” Alexander asked, leaning against the oven. Seeing that Nils had no idea what he was talking about, he clarified, “What if you fall in love?”

“Yeah, no.” Nils snorted, unable to  contain  the absurdity of this statement. How could he fall for anyone else, when he had Alexander right there? Not to mention- “I mean… The only  _ viable  _ option for me would be Ciaran and that’s not happening.”

At the mention of the Irishman, Alexander narrowed his eyes. He didn’t even know the man and yet it seemed like he already hated him. Which, Nils could definitely get behind it.

“Alright. If you say so.”

“Okay. Fantastic. We can figure out the details of this  _ arrangement  _ tomorrow, but first let’s… try to get through the evening, I guess.” Nils closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He didn’t notice Alexander moving, until the other man had his hands on him. He ruffled Nils’ hair and pulled on his shirt, untucking and wrinkling it, ruining the unusually clean look the shorter man put together for his arrival.

“What are you doing?” Nils glared at Alexander, as the other man was completing his ministrations.

Alexander shrugged, tugging at a strand of Nils’ hair for the last time, before letting go of him. “They are going to wonder what took us so long. I’m making sure they don’t ask.”

Nils could feel his entire face burning from the implication. This plan was going to kill him.

***

The women indeed didn’t ask, although Bernadette snickered a little as they emerged from the kitchen, disheveled, the wine bottle still unopened. Nils tried to glare her into silence as he turned back to pick up the corkscrew they were supposed to get in the first place, but she just laughed more.

Nils briefly considered plunging the wine opener into his own hand to avoid having this social situation, but he could already hear Alexander in his head, calling him  _ ‘overdramatic’  _ and  _ ‘a danger to himself and society’ _ and he really didn’t need that in his life right now.

Despite him agreeing to the charade, Nils still didn’t feel comfortable imposing his touch on Alexander, so in the end they just sat next to each other on the floor, in front of Bernadette and Sinead who were occupying the pile of pillows they were using for a couch before their guests arrived. The opened cake and wine were laid on the ground in the between all of them, next to four mugs. Nils made a mental note to order some wine glasses, which he immediately forgot. 

The conversation felt awkward, as introducing two groups of friends usually does, even without pretending to be in a relationship with one of them. Nils was running every single gesture through his mind, making sure it’s not too affectionate or not affectionate enough, Bernadette found it  _ hilarious  _ to make him squirm and made it her goal to see how much of a nuisance she could be, while Alexander and Sinead seemed perfectly content to drink their wine in silence. 

“The lack of stuff, is that, like, a feng shui thing?” Bernadette asked, gesticulating with her mug around the empty room. “Or did your plan to be both a writer and a carpenter not work out?”

“Nils is doing his best.” Alexander tried to defend his ‘boyfriend’. It was the first time he said anything unprompted since they left the kitchen, which made Nils feel twice as bad, because it was definitely not true. If he spent as much time woodworking as he did watching YouTube in bed, Berrybog Cottage would be considered an Ikea by now. 

He didn’t even want to think about the writer thing.

“Really?” Bernadette grinned at Alexander, proud of succeeding in making people talk once again, “Is that why your furniture consists of five pillows in total?” 

“Hey! I’ll let you know it’s five pillows, three tables and two mattresses!” Trying to defend himself, Nils didn’t realise he said too much, until he heard Bernadette’s snort.

“I don’t even know which part of this list I should use to make fun of you,” she said, “Are you building a nest? Are you planning to have three dinners at the same time? Are you not sleeping together until marriage?”

Shit, right. Two mattresses.

“It’s for the guest bedroom.” Alexander answered with a poker face. Nils could kiss him right now - well, he could always kiss him - for being so much better at lying.

_ ‘You should have only ordered one,’  _ a tiny voice in his head said, to which Nils called the tiny voice a creep. 

***

“Okay, since that’s the only part you protested, I’m going to assume I was right about the other stuff.” Bernadette laughed as Nils groaned and threw his head back, prompting Alexander to grab his hand to stop him from spilling his mug of wine.

Sinead smiled to herself. She was happy to see how  _ comfortable _ they looked together - their casual touches, the way they looked at each other… It reminded her of the time long ago, when she was young and in love.  Sitting on the floor of an empty, old cottage, with the three  _ children  _ teasing each other, she could feel the same love all around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, just a heads up: there probably won't be a new chapter this week, because I'm travelling to see my family.
> 
> See you in two weeks!


	9. The Greenhouse

There’s a saying that everything looks better in the morning. Nils thought it was complete bullshit.

By the time he dragged himself out of bed and made coffee, Alexander was already up and running, as evident by unidentifiable sounds coming from somewhere in the house. Not because Alexander himself was such an early riser, but because Nils refused to wake up like a regular human being. He would prefer to stay in bed even longer, but it was made impossible by whatever noise Alexander was making.

Ah, yes. The delight of having housemates.

Following the sound, Nils stepped into the greenhouse in his pajama pants and a t-shirt, clutching at his chipped coffee mug, and dropped onto one of the rusty metal chairs. Alexander was working on  _ something _ , moving pots and planters around. Nils wasn’t conscious enough to even start figuring out what exactly was happening, but the view of Alexander practically glowing in the morning sun was making him reconsider his policy towards waking hours.

“Up already?” Alexander asked, as if he wasn’t making enough ruckus to wake up the entire town.

“No.” Nils grumbled, tucking his legs under his chin. 

“Great. We need to talk.”

This time, in lieu of an answer, Nils groaned and hid his face in his knees, spilling a little bit of coffee on the ground.

“Come on,” Alexander sighed and Nils heard his footsteps coming closer, “It’s about our… relationship.”

“This does not make the idea of talking sound any better.”

Face still hidden, Nils couldn’t tell Alexander’s expression. The other man stayed quiet for a while, before saying, “We have rules to discuss.”

Nils was not inconsiderate enough to ignore  _ that _ , so he raised his eyes, giving the other man as much attention as he could muster this early in the day. “Fine. What’s up.” 

Alexander cleaned his throat. “First of all, do you mind telling me what exactly have you said so far?”

“Not much, mostly true stuff,” Nils shrugged, “We met years ago. You’re an artist. I bought this house and asked if you would like to move in with me”

“Good. The less we lie the better.”

_ ‘I wish you had told me that a month ago.’  _ Nils thought to himself, taking a sip from his mug, but he didn’t say anything.

“Next thing then. Can I touch you?”

The shorter man choked, spitting coffee over himself. Barely a second later, Alexander was standing next to him, patting his back.

“What?” Nils finally wheezed between coughs.

“When we’re pretending to be together,” Alexander clarified, looking at him with concern in his eyes, ”Would you be okay with me touching you?”

“You’re touching me right now.” It was the smartest thing Nils could say, his brain short-circuiting. The only alternative was a detailed description of just how okay he would be with Alexander touching him.

“Right.” He took his hand away from Nils’ back. “But it’s different.”

“Is it?” Nils shrugged. He thought about all the times they were holding each other up when drunk, about leaning on Alexander’s shoulder when trying to sleep on a bus or poking him to get his attention. They were friends for years, it wouldn’t be anything special - despite what he might hope for. “You’re the one that got roped into it. Touch me however you like,” he said with a smirk.

Alexander stared down at him, mouth slightly agape at the declaration.

“Relax, it was a joke. I’m not coming onto you,” Nils rolled his eyes as he said that. Some day he will find a friend who appreciates his sense of humor.

“Of course you’re not.” Alexander cleared his throat and returned to whatever it was that he was doing with the plants. Now, with his eyes actually open, Nils could see him attempting to clean up the greenhouse. 

It seemed like Alexander already managed to get some progress during the morning. A month ago, the open space they were talking in was full of leaves, weeds and broken glass, metal furniture covered with dust and grime. 

Before the other man arrived, Nils avoided this place like a plague. He had enough to do indoors and decided that any plants would have to wait until he had at least a single chair inside of the house. Not to mention, with one of the glass walls broken, the place was crawling with living things. He was alright with lizards and mice, but he’d rather not deal with anything that had more than four legs.

Speaking of crawling, disgusting pests...

“If it comes up, should we tell them about Johanna?” Nils asked.

“Why would she come up?”

“I don’t know! She was a huge part of your life for like three years, it’s the kind of thing that gets mentioned.” 

Alexander cringed. Nils knew he didn’t like talking about his ex-girlfriend, but it would be too easy to slip up - mention the holidays they went on together, a recipe she used to cook… No matter how painful it was, it was there.

“I guess. There’s no reason to keep her a secret.”

“Really?” Nils blinked in surprise. “We’re going to tell them you were in a long-term relationship with a  _ woman _ ?”

“Why not?”   
  
“Because I’m a guy?” Nils asked in an incredulous tone, pointing at himself.

Alexander sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “People are bisexual, Nils,” he said, as if talking to a child.

“I know! But do  _ they _ know? Aren’t  _ they _ going to get suspicious?”

“Didn’t we get into this mess because you assumed  _ they  _ are going to be close-minded in the first place?”

Nils opened and closed his mouth, trying to come up with a reply, until finally settling on, “You’re right. And I hate it.” 

“Thank you,” Alexander answered patiently, “I know.”

***

By the time afternoon rolled around, they decided to go out. Nils would prefer to stay at home until global warming or whatever caused the apocalypse and they wouldn’t have to worry about societal expectations, but Alexander was not thrilled by that idea.

When they got to  _ the Tap  _ \- which was the only place to go out to, if one was too old to drink in the forest with local teenagers - they were greeted by the aroma of food and stale beer, which at that point became to Nils as close as the smell of home.

It wasn’t that he was drinking that much, although he made it a habit to show up for at least one evening during the weekend, just like the rest of locals. Instead, he would come to the pub and buy a diner to go - on the days where he was in town and could be bothered to eat. He enjoyed these midday visits more than crowded evenings. The place was usually almost empty and he could take in the warm atmosphere and relax, without having to talk with anyone. 

It was true for that day as well. The only patron present was Mr. Richards, who sat at his usual table with lunch and a newspaper. He smiled at the two men entering the pub and Nils nodded back at him, before leading Alexander to the bar counter.

“Hey, Nils! And a guy who I have heard absolutely nothing about and have no idea who he is!” Fionn greeted them from behind the bar, with a huge grin on his face.

Nils snorted, “Drop it. I bet Bernie called you the second she left our house.”

“She stopped by on her way home, actually.” Fionn laughed and reached above the countertop to shake the newcomer’s hand. “It’s Alexander, right?”

The bartender was a broad man about 30 years old, with laughter lines already clearly defined on his face. He had darker skin and deep brown eyes, which seemed to have a permanent spark in them.

“Yes.” Alexander answered, shaking his hand. “You have to forgive me, Nils isn’t nearly as good in sharing rumours as Bernadette.”

“Not many people are,” the bartender laughed, “The name’s Fionn.”

“Pleasure.” 

“I’m sure.” Fionn said, as the other two sat themselves on barstools. “So, what can I get for you fellas?” 

Nils shrugged. “Whatever today’s special is.”

“And you?” Fionn asked the taller man.

Alexander looked around, unsure how to proceed without any menu in sight. “Something... Irish?” he finally answered.   


“Sure.” Fionn turned around and shouted into the kitchen, “Maisie! Two specials!” Seeing Alexander’s confused face, he winked at him and said, “What? We’re in Ireland, everything here is Irish.”

“And two pints,” Nils added. Alexander glanced at him, furrowing his brows, but he just smirked and said, “Nothing’s more Irish than that!”

Alexander sighed heavily at the two men who thought they were clever and gave up.

The conversation went on as they were drinking and waiting for the food to be cooked. Fionn was wonderfully non-intrusive in comparison with the rest of Edenderry, although Nils supposed it had more to do with him hearing about everything as the local bartender anyway, than with his discretion. It seemed like it was going to be a perfectly pleasant afternoon.

And then the door to the pub opened again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!
> 
> I'm on tumblr (https://martinmova.tumblr.com/) and twitter (https://twitter.com/martinmova3), where I post updates and some other things related to this WIP. Come say hi :)


	10. The Bait

Ciaran stumbled into Nils and Alexander in the pub by an accident. Yes, his mother might have told him that the new occupant of Berrybog Cottage arrived in town. Yes, Ciaran might have noticed that Nils tended to spend most of his time in the village either in the _ Tap  _ or in the grocery store. 

He found himself noticing a lot of things about Nils, but that’s because his wreck of a car just stood out on the clean streets of Edenderry.

Despite this knowledge, it was just a coincidence that he decided to take the road next to the pub when he was walking into the village that day. And when he was coming back from the village. And that he peeked inside through the large windows as he was passing by. All of these were coincidences.

Alright, maybe he was a little curious.

As he saw the two men through the window, sitting at the bar counter and chatting with Fionn, something stirred in his chest. Nils was listening to his boyfriend with a smile on his face, his body open and relaxed. He said something that made the other men laugh and for a second Ciaran could see a spark of pride and happiness on his face.

It looked nice and warm, and it made Ciaran feel… angry?

He wasn’t going to dwell on those feelings. Instead, he opened the door to the pub and strolled in, filling with steps with all of his well-trained confidence.

The three men looked in his direction. He noted with some satisfaction that Nils’ smile slid off of his face as soon as his eyes met Ciaran’s. 

“Gentlemen,” Ciaran greeted the room with a smile, doing his best to pretend he was oblivious to the hostility coming off of the shorter man in waves.

“Ciaran,” Nils scoffed, “just my luck.”

The Irishman was ready to confirm that yes, he was indeed lucky to have the opportunity to see Ciaran, but the stranger sitting next to Nils cut in.

“ _ You’re  _ Ciaran?” he asked.

It was the first time Ciaran’s eyes slid off of Nils and onto his  _ partner _ , despite his curiosity about the man being what drove him here. Did the guy have to be good looking? How unfair was that?

“I see my fame precedes me,” Ciaran grinned, making his way towards them. It shouldn’t surprise him, being previously mentioned to Nils’ boyfriend, but it still stirred something inside of him, “And you are?”

Of course Ciaran knew who he was, but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“Alexander.”

“Right, Nils might have mentioned you once or twice.” Ciaran snapped his fingers as if suddenly remembering. “How do you like Edenderry, Alex?”

“It’s Alexander,” the other man answered, his tone ice cold.

“Seriously?”

“I don’t like people calling me that. It’s Alexander.”

“Why the hostility? Nils and I are good friends, aren’t we?” With these words, Ciaran scooted closer to Nils and leaned on the counter next to him. 

“I would throw you in front of a moving train if I had a chance.” Nils said, casually taking a sip of his beer.

Ciaran wiggled fingers of his freshly healed hand. “Bold words for someone who  _ saved my life. _ ” 

“I have regretted it since the day it happened.”

“Wow,” Ciaran turned his body to face Alexander again, leaning closer to Nils on the way, “I thought being with his  _ boyfriend  _ would restrain him.”

“ _ My boyfriend _ doesn’t need restraining,” As he said that, Alexander sneaked a hand onto Nils’ knee in a gesture that to Ciaran looked almost possessive. Nils glanced at his partner, his face going slightly red. Not used to public displays?

“But I bet he would like it,” Ciaran wiggled his eyebrows.

Nils looked at him with murder in his eyes and slid off of his barstool. Considering he looked like he was milliseconds away from punching Ciaran, it was probably intended to look menacing, but leaving the high chair made the height difference between them more prominent.

Seeing that at least two of his customers were getting into a fight, Fionn decided to intervene, putting his arms between them. 

“Okay fellas, I think that’s enough,” he said, placing himself in front of them, “I don’t get what the thing between you two is about. I don’t want to get it. I do, however, want you to keep it outside of my fine establishment, unless you’re ready to pay for the damages. And I have it on good authority, that neither of you can afford that.”

The two men kept looking at each other, neither willing to be the first to back off.

Ciaran was the first to break.

"That’s true. Well, I should get going anyway." He grinned and turned away. He already achieved his goal of pissing Nils off, nothing else to do. "Enjoy your date."

***

Nils wanted to throw his beer at Ciaran's back as he was leaving the pub, but he had a feeling that Fionn wouldn't appreciate that either.

He followed the Irishman with his gaze until the door closed behind him, barely listening to Alexander apologizing for their behaviour.

“Don’t worry about it,” Fionn replied, waving his hand. “I’m pretty sure at least one of them is going to end up bleeding on my floor before the year ends.”

Alexander cringed. “Still. We will try to keep it civil.”

“Eh.” The bartender shrugged. “At least you guys ordered something.”

That thought pulled Nils back into the conversation. "Wait, did he only come here to argue with me? What the fuck?" 

In response he heard a snort coming from further inside the bar. Only then did they remembered the presence of Mr. Richards, who at some point put down his newspaper and was watching the spectacle happening in front of him while sipping his beer.

Nils cursed under his breath. He should start selling tickets, since all of Edenderry seemed to enjoy the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter one this time, but I'm reworking some story structure things :)


	11. The Guests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters this week, bc I deleted this one before. Might end up deleting the next 3 chapters when I'm done with the story, bc I don't like them that much, but for now - enjoy the content.

Saturday was always a slow day at the store. Without Bernadette there, Sinead spent most of her morning glued to the window. She noticed the unfamiliar car with a Dublin license plate as soon as it passed the corner. She followed it with her gaze as it parked on the curbside in front of the store. Judging by the looks thrown its way, it didn’t skip the attention of the “neighbourhood watch” in the form of Mrs. Staton and her two friends.

A beautiful woman left the car. She had long, dark hair pinned in a high updo and a rubenesque figure. She was followed by a tall man with a dark, well-groomed beard. They were talking, but Sinead couldn’t hear about what. Until they entered the store.

“All I’m saying is,” the woman sighed, while the man opened the door for her, a small bell above them accompanying her words, “I don’t get why they have to be so impractical about it!”

“I think it’s charming,” the man answered in a thick, Spanish accent, nodding to greet Sinead, before the couple made their way between the shelves.

“That’s because you’re easily charmed, darling.”

“Only by you.”

The woman laughed and Sinead smiled to herself. There was something in the air this spring.

The bliss was short lived. Her face fell a second later, when the three old women she saw on the street entered the store. They started mulling around the shelf nearest to the cash register, not even trying to hide their eavesdropping. 

Sinead dreamed of the day someone would open a cinema around here.

“What do you think, a cabernet?” The strange woman asked her partner from somewhere in the alcohol section. She had a bit of an accent as well, but Sinead couldn’t quite place it.

“I think he’ll drink whatever you put in front of him.”

The three locals looked at each other. Sinead could already see rumours about somebody’s alcoholism forming in their heads. She pitied the poor sod, if they ever manage to learn who it is.

“True. I’ll take the cabernet.”

As the couple came out from between the shelves with two bottles of wine, they were greeted by the sight of four people staring at them. The man seemed a little spooked, but the woman did her best to ignore them. Only after eyes of the locals followed them the entire way to the registry, she turned around to the older women and asked:

“Can I help you?”

Mrs. Staton perked up, an innocent smile on her face. 

“I’m so sorry my dear! We rarely get visitors around here.” Her friends nodded their heads eagerly. “We were curious about your impressions! How do you find our little town?”

“Not great.”

“Oh?”

“I mean,” the woman bit her tongue, “in the literal sense. The town’s great. We just can’t find our way around it.”

“We can help!” Mrs. Staton clapped her hands, the visitors falling right into her trap. “Where are you headed?”

And there it was. May God protect whoever’s house the woman describes. 

“That’s the problem, there’s like… no proper address? It just says Berrybog Cottage.”

“Oh!” All of the women exclaimed, including Sinead. Yeah, that made sense.

“That’s how addresses around here work, my dear, we use the names,” Mrs. Staton explained, but she wasn’t in any hurry to give directions to the couple, “Are you going there to see Nils, or his partner?”

The woman frowned. “We’re- we’re visiting Nils and Alexander.”

“Both of them then?” There was something sharp in the old woman’s smile. “It’s nice to see they’re friends with another couple.”

“Another? They’ve been hanging out with a couple?”

“I meant another than themselves, of course.”

“Right. Of course. Another couple than themselves.” The woman grinned. “Language barrier, you know?”

Sinead felt like she missed something.

***

After they  _ finally  _ managed to get directions from people in the locals, Kat and Bernard left the store. They stayed quiet until the doors of the car closed behind them. The second they heard locks click, they bursted out at the same time:

“Do they think Nils and Alexander are dating?”

“I’m going to have so much fun with whatever’s going on around here!”

***

Nils thought that the first few days after Alexander moved into the Berrybog Cottage went surprisingly well. That is, not counting the first meeting with Ciaran, of course. Or Bernadette and Sinead’s unexpected visit. Or the entire ‘pretend to date me’ thing.

The fact that it was still way better than whatever Nils was expecting was slightly depressing.

While the lack of any disasters going on at the moment was, in theory, a good thing, a small part of Nils was quite unhappy about it. Of course, he didn’t  _ want _ bad things to be happening, but the perk of disasters was that they were a great excuse to not do what he was supposed to do.

To make the matters worse, Alexander took the car to drive to a larger town for an easel and painting supplies, which meant that Nils couldn’t distract himself by going to Edenderry or spending time with him.

So.

Writing.

Right.

Nils sat on the floor with a laptop on his knees and opened a word document. Alexander was patient, but if they really were going to start a partnership, Nils had to start writing a script. At least start. It shouldn’t be difficult. Just type words. 

His fingers hang uselessly over the keyboard.

A thought crossed Nils’ mind - it would be much easier if he had a more comfortable place to work, wouldn’t it? They had the three tables that he made before, but they were still standing in the room he designated to be a workshop, and the total amount of chairs in the cottage still equalled zero.

Nils finally hit a few keys. Even if only to type in the Youtube search bar.

Fifteen minutes later he was in the makeshift workshop, trying to nail boards together without accidentally crucifying himself, when a car with a Dublin license plate pulled up in front of the cottage.


	12. The Pillows

Nils groaned when he opened the front door.

“If one more uninvited person comes over, I’m getting a guard dog.”

“Love you too.” Kat kissed his cheek and let herself into the house. Bernard gave him a courteous nod and a smile, waiting to be let in.

“I’m serious,” Nils sighed, holding his hand out to invite the other man inside, “Why does everyone think they can just barge into my house?”

“Because you’d never invite anybody out of your own volition,” Kat replied. Bernard smiled at her and Nils was reminded how disgustingly in love they were. “Plus, isn’t it our house anyway?”

“My name on the deed would disagree.”

“My bank account would agree.”

“That’s not how loans work!”

“Isn’t it?”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, but since neither of them had any idea how loans do actually work, they looked at Bernard expectantly. 

“I know you two suck at being adults, but shouldn’t you have figured it out  _ before _ one lent the other money for an entire property?” he answered, trying not to aggravate either side.

“...maybe,” Kat huffed. “Doesn’t matter. Nils has a house and I can come over and bother him whenever I want. It’s a win-win situation.”

“I feel like I’m on the losing end of things, but sure.” Nils rolled his eyes.

The house tour didn’t take long, considering there wasn’t much to show. Three tables, two mattresses and one unfinished chair later they were sitting on the living room pillows, which by then became the designated couch area. Each of them had a mug of tea in their hands and Nils thought he’s going to melt with how warm and cozy it felt. He might have acted annoyed, but he was delighted to see his childhood friend and her fiance. 

“So,” Kat started in a sing-songy voice, ”how’s my - Bernard, don’t listen - favourite guy?”

“Um. Good?” Nils answered, tilting his head.

“Yeah? Nothing new and exciting going on?”

“I bought a house and moved abroad. I don’t know if you’ve heard. That’s a pretty new and exciting thing.” “Really? I had no idea,” Kat answered, covering her mouth in a mockery of surprise. When they were younger, their families had a theory that they became best friends because no one else could stand the amount of sarcasm they produced. “On a  _ completely unrelated note _ , where’s Alexander?”

Nils narrowed his eyes, “Out. He went shopping.”

“You didn’t go with your  _ boyfriend _ ?” Bernard asked in a casual tone.

Nobody said anything for a few seconds.

Then, both Kat and Nils exploded.

“Come on, I wanted to drag it out!”

“How do you guys know about that?!”

“Not from you, that’s for sure!”

Bernard kept sipping his tea, while the two people kept shouting at him and each other. Sometimes he envied the friendship they had. This was not one of these times.

***

The shouting subsided after a while, only to resume when Alexander entered the house. He stood in the doorway, stunned by the sudden onslaught of sounds and people. Bernard would feel sorry for him, if he didn’t just have to deal with the same.

***

“Let me get this straight,” Kat rubbed the bridge of her nose, “You said you have a boyfriend to piss off a homophobe? Were you  _ trying  _ to get your ass kicked?”

“I said I have a  _ partner _ ,” Nils murmured, doing his best to not look his friends’ in the eyes, “I was hoping he’d get pissed and then I could be like  _ ‘business partner, no homo’ _ and he’d look like an idiot.”

He didn’t mention that he wouldn’t mind getting into a fight, even if it ended up with himself getting beat up.

“But instead he turned out to be gay? How do you make  _ that _ mistake?”

“I don’t know! He seemed to have a problem with me!” With a sigh, Nils fell back onto the pillows. Looking at the ceiling, he added bitterly, “Which I guess was caused by my personality, not sexuality.”

“Didn’t it start with him not liking the way you look?” Alexander voiced from somewhere on his left.

“Yes, thank you for this very helpful addition. Ciaran hates both my personality  _ and  _ my looks.” 

Something panged inside of Nils at that thought. It reminded him of the way he felt when he looked at Alexander and Johanna. This realisation was… unnerving, but he swiped it to the back of his mind. It was only natural to feel hurt  by good looking people disregarding you, right? Even if they were assholes. It was just a self-esteem thing, and Nils didn’t have much of it to begin with.

“Right. And now you can’t tell them the truth, because that would make  _ you  _ the asshole.” Kat tapped one painted fingernail against her lip, “Well, maybe you could have. In the beginning. You’re in too deep now.”

“Again, very helpful,” Nils rolled his eyes, “Bernard, do you have another observation you’d like to  _ stab me in the guts with _ ?”

“No. I was trying to think of a way to explain that without making you sound unhinged,” the Spaniard answered, “but I’m having trouble with the part where you were pretending to be a couple in front of other people.”

With a heavy groan, Nils covered his face with one of the pillows. How dare his friends be honest and logical when it came to his misery!

Seeing her best friend slowly becoming one with the floor, Kat patted his knee.

“Alright, I’m sorry. It really does suck. Want me to lift your spirits?”

Nils raised the pillow from his face a little bit, gazing at the woman with suspicion.

“How?”

“We go into the town. Double date style. Show them how cool and popular you are. Buy- well, anything edible, since your house is severely lacking in that department. Go home, make dinner, spend a nice evening in.”

Since it was a Saturday, Nils was planning to go to  _ the Tap  _ with everybody. He expected to be glad to have an excuse to not do that - past him would love it. Instead, he found out that he didn’t mind going.

But the thought of not only Alexander, but also Kat and Bernard being let loose onto the town unsettled him. Plus, it would be nice to finally use the kitchen for something other than storage. 

“Yeah. Sure. Let’s do that.”

***

On their way home from the store, Kat was unusually quiet. Nils tried to figure out what was her problem - they took a walk, so that her and Bernard could see the sights. They bought what he considered to be way too many vegetables. They even had a perfectly pleasant conversation with Sinead and some other locals, which didn’t end up in a catastrophe.

For him, that was already an achievement!

He didn’t have to wait long to find out. As soon as the door to Berrybog Cottage closed behind the four of them, Kat shot out, “You guys suck at this!”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure you’re right,” Nils replied, “But what are you referring to?”

“Your complete inability to act as a couple!”

“We have  _ some  _ ability!”

“You lose brain cells any time someone comments on the two of you!”

“That’s not- it’s not-” Nils was starting to get flustered. “We’re not  _ that  _ bad!”

He turned to the other men, trying to get their support, but they were looking everywhere except at him.

“Well,” Bernard started, “You know how little children try to make their dolls kiss, but they’re just slamming two rigid pieces of plastic against each other? It was like that.”

“I was going to compare them to hitting two pieces of flint together to create a spark, but if you were using wet bark instead of flint,” Kat tilted her head as she said that.

“You did run out of the store when I tried to wrap my arm around you.” Alexander shrugged.

“Hey!” Nils pointed at him. “It’s your fault too! You froze when Maisie asked how long we were together!”

“I’m not… great. At lying.” His fake boyfriend at least had enough decency to admit that.

“And I’m not great at being in a relationship!”

“Alright, alright. It’s nothing we can’t salvage.” The woman put her hands up. “You just need a little practice.”

“This is ridiculous. We’re not that bad.”

“Oh yeah? Come on then, prove me wrong! Show how great of a couple you two can be!”

The two men stood next to each other in silence, long enough to make everyone present uncomfortable. Finally, in one, decisive motion, Alexander grabbed Nils’ hand. The other man looked at him with his mouth slightly open, before going red in the face.

“I stand corrected,” Kat whistled, “You need  _ a lot  _ of practice.”


	13. The Bootcamp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A month long break, but I'm back. Hopefully work will be chill again, and I'll be able to finish this WIP before the end of the year!

“No. This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard, and I’m the one that started this whole bullshit.” Nils rubbed his face. He loved Kat like a sister, but he had to draw a line somewhere. Practicing being a couple with the guy he was in love with for years seemed like the right place.

Not to mention, she had to know - or at least suspect - that he had feelings for Alexander. Was it some misguided, creepy attempt to make him happy?

“Nils-" Alexander started, before Kat interrupted him.

“First mistake! Don’t call him that!”

“Call him what? Nils?” The man furrowed his brows in confusion. “But… that’s his name?”

Nils could understand his questioning tone. At this point he was doubting that as well.

“Exactly!” She answered, “Do you know how long it’s been since Bernard called me by my name?”

They thought about it. Did he ever refer to her as something else than “darling”, “sweetie” or something like that? 

“To be fair,” Nils said, “it’s entirely possible that he forgot your name after the first time you introduced yourself and now it would be too awkward to ask.”

“Nils, the man and I are engaged.”

“I know. It’s the perfect plan. The priest will say your name at the ‘do you take her to be your lawfully wedded’ part and that’s how he will learn it.”

“Then he will deserve it for his dedication.”

“Besides, I never saw you call him anything outrageous!”

“Oh, I call him many things,” Kat purred and wiggled her eyebrows, “if you know what I mean.”

“Gross.”

“You’re gross,” she answered, like the adult she was, “Point is, you gotta come up with pet names.” 

“How about ‘sweetheart’?” Alexander murmured. 

Nils raised his head up to look at him. 

“Are you seriously going along with this lunacy?” He asked.

The taller man shrugged. “It’s important to you that we pull it off.”

Nils groaned. Alexander was right. They were doing all of it for his benefit. He was being unreasonable. So what if the two of them didn’t have as much chemistry as he hoped they had? So what if they couldn’t pass for a couple? He shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Alexander was beautiful, kind and successful, and he was...

He was a mess.

“Fine,” Nils capitulated, “But not ‘sweetheart’.” 

“Then what would you like me to call you?”

The truth was, Nils would very much like for Alexander to call him ‘sweetheart’. It was just that even the idea of being called something so soft by the man he was in love with was breaking his heart.

“Something else?” he replied, hesitation obvious in his voice.

“Sweetcheeks? Angel eyes? Baby?” Kat prompted.

“I will stab him if he calls me any of that.”

“With what? Your sharp wit?”

Nils opened and closed his mouth a few times, before exclaiming, “I hate it. Get out of my house.” 

Before Nils could defenestrate his best friend from his house for saying puns, Alexander perched in, “Would ‘darling’ be okay?”

Maybe it was the terrifying idea of being called shit like ‘angel eyes’ or ‘baby’ that lowered his standards, but he didn’t hate that one. Well, he didn’t hate the idea of being called ‘baby’ either, but the thought of being called that in Alexander’s sultry voice made something inside of Nils stir dangerously.

“Ugh. Alright.”

“Perfect!” Kat clapped her hands. “Now, we need something for Alexander.”

The three of them looked at the tall man. Somehow, nothing seemed to really fit. Or, to be precise, everything seemed to fit, which meant that Nils couldn’t pick any of it. He could not call Alexander something like ‘honey’ or ‘love’ and not spontaneously combust.

“How about calling him Alex?” Bernard asked suddenly.

Alexander visibly winced. Nils took a breath through her teeth. Even Kat, who only had a second-hand knowledge of the situation, cringed slightly.

“No,” Nils answered.

“Why not? It’s not that sweet, but you’d be the only person calling him that. That would be nice.” Bernard continued, unaware of how thick the air became for everyone else in the room.

“That’s what Johanna used to call him,” Kat explained quietly to her fiance.

“Oh,” Bernard’s face fell, “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“It could work,” Alexander interrupted him, “They already know to use my full name.”

Without saying that out loud, Nils noted that it wasn’t exactly ‘they’ that knew that, but Ciaran. Unless Alexander was hoping for the rumour mill to work in their advantage, but did anything ever do that?

“Are you sure? Alex?” Nils asked, looking at his friend for any signs that he might be uncomfortable with it. 

Alexander held his gaze.

“I am.”

“Fantastic!” Kat exclaimed, “You two passed lesson one with flying colours. Lesson two, touching!”

Nils briefly wondered if he somehow offended Kat the last time they saw each other and now she was trying to enact her bloody revenge. 

“We already discussed touching,” Alexander came to his defense.

“Oh, you discussed it? Unless you let me operate on you because I watched Grey’s Anatomy, that doesn’t count. You gotta touch each other.”

“We are touching each other!” Nils realised the mistake he made the second these words escaped him. He looked in terror as a grin grew on Kat’s face. 

Before she could make any inappropriate touching jokes, Bernard wrapped his arms around her and covered her mouth. 

“What she’s saying is,” he said, “you look uncomfortable once you go for romantic touches.”

Kat wiggled her eyebrows in a way that made it clear that was not at all what she wanted to say. Still, she seemed perfectly comfortable in this new position and fully leaned into her fiance.

“I don’t want to make Alexander uncomfortable,” Nils said, barely audible. After all, his friend was a straight guy, who was perfectly aware of Nils’ sexuality. He should be the one making boundaries. 

Not to mention that Nils didn’t have any boundaries when it came to the idea of being touched by Alexander.

“I...” the other man started. God, he was going to say that he’s uncomfortable with all touching, wasn’t he? “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“What?” Nils blinked slowly, “I told you, I’m fine with whatever.”

“I know. I’m still worried about you.”

With her mouth still covered, Kat let out a muffled ‘awww’. Nils was torn between doing the same, punching himself and assuring them all that he was fine, really, he was great actually, nobody has to worry about him ever, especially not Alexander.

“Be more worried about me becoming a social pariah and not my virtue,” he finally answered, “And I’ll try to. Touch you more.”

Kat’s eyebrows wiggled again.

“In public.”

The wiggling got worse.

“In a completely platonic matter that will look romantic to the onlookers. Jesus, happy?”

Bernard looked down at Kat, who seemed to be considering it, until she nodded her head. Her fiance let her go, but she remained snuggled into his arms as she started talking again, “I would still like you to practice, but we can include that in lesson three.”

“Do I want to know what’s lesson three?”

“I’m glad you asked!” She grinned. “It’s kissing.”

“No,” both Nils and Alexander replied at the same time, with varying degrees of horror in their voices.

“Come on, you two were doing so well!”

“No! That’s it, I’m drawing the line.” Nils crossed his arms.

“You know that real couples kiss, right?”

“Nope. Never heard about it.” It wasn’t the first time Nils wished sarcasm could kill. “When I said I’m fine with whatever, I meant it. But I’m not going to do that for your amusement.”

With these words, Nils stormed off into the kitchen, trying to ignore Alexander’s lack of real protest to the idea.

***

Bernard and Kat stayed for two more days. After his outburst, they didn’t push for any more ‘training’, choosing instead to help around the house. Nils went back to his attempts at making chairs, joined by Bernard. The Spaniard was not a professional carpenter, but he learned the basics when he started working in real estate.

That bit of experience was a godsend. He was a much better teacher than YouTube videos and the two of them not only finished multiple chairs - even though it was obvious who made which ones - but they also started on shelves. Bernard tried to show Nils how to make a bed frame, but Nils would rather wait for when he had more skill himself. He’d rather not make a shitty bed that would break under his weight and spear him with a broken plank.

Which was not a very realistic fear, but not many of Nils’ anxieties were.

He tried to use that opportunity to ask Bernard what the hell got into Kat’s head to come up with the ‘training’ idea, but couldn’t get the other man to say anything more than ‘She just wants you to be happy’.

The woman herself spent most of this time either in the garden or in the greenhouse, with Alexander. She tried to get the shrubs under at least the illusion of control and she planted some vegetables, although Nils forgot which patch is what almost immediately. 

On Monday, the four of them drove to get transparent tarpaulin and used it to secure the hole in the glass wall of the greenhouse, at least until they got someone to fix it. 

With all of them throwing themselves into work and two other men in the house, Nils and Kat didn’t have the chance to get any time to talk by themselves until the last evening of the visit. Bernard and Alexander already went to sleep, leaving their already drunk ‘partners’ with the remaining bottle of wine. 

Nils took a deep breath. Sometime during the evening, the two took their glasses and all remaining blankets and moved onto the porch. They already talked for hours and now they were content to sit in the dark, looking at stars amongst the chirping of crickets.

Despite being an unemployed 26-years-old with a house, Nils felt like he was on summer vacation. Somehow, this became his life. Even with everything going on, at that point he felt more calm than he had in years.

Kat was curled up next to him, with her head on his shoulder. He started to wonder if she had fallen asleep, when she spoke up, “Be careful.”

“With what?” Nils asked. At that moment, the idea of anything dangerous existing in the world didn’t seem real. 

“Your whole… thing.”

“Oh.”

“I joke about it, but I really don’t want anything bad to happen because of a stupid lie.”

“Relax,” said Nils, who has never been relaxed in his entire life, “I know Bernard had trouble selling the cottage, but with the work we did, it should be easier now. Worst case scenario, I’ll leave the town.”

They both knew he could do it. He already did it once. 

But this time, he didn’t want to.

“Fuck the town,” Kat said with the full confidence of a drunk, comfortable woman.

“I would get all kinds of sore.”

Kat snorted. “I’m serious. The town is not what I’m talking about.”

“What are you talking about then?”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking into the darkness of trees ahead of them, “You. Alexander. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

It was Nils’ turn to snort. 

“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hurt Alexander if I tried.” That wasn’t true. They were still good friends and he knew that Alexander really cared for him. He was just drunk enough to allow himself to be bitter over the fact that it was not the kind of caring he wanted from him. “I’m fine too. I know what I’m doing.”

That wasn’t true either.


	14. The Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter? On time? Who am I and what have I done with myself?
> 
> This one got liiiiitle out of hand with the wordcount.

According to Nils, all people could be divided into two groups: ones who like cats and ones who have a bad taste. He, of course, was a member of the former.

Tragically, his fondness for these animals was overshadowed by his allergy. The second Nils stepped into a room with a cat in it, his nose would close and his throat would start aching. After a while, he would get a fever and would get overwhelmed with fatigue. The effects of his allergy were indistinguishable from the flu.

Which was why he was currently sitting in front of Mrs. Staton's house, trying to get the world to stop spinning.

In the beginning, everything was fine. He promised the old woman to feed her cat when she was visiting her niece and although he did that to get rid of her, he wasn't going to go back on his word. The door opened, the cat food was where it was supposed to be and Nils was naive enough to believe they wouldn't be any trouble. As he was filling the pet bow - surprisingly large for one animal, he noted - Mrs. Staton's cat entered the kitchen, lured by the sound of dinner being served.

She was a beautiful adult cat, with gray stripes in her coat. Her fur was longer than that of an average stray, making him wonder if she was some thoroughbred. She stood in the doorway, her tail moving from side to side, looking at Nils with a proper amount of suspicion for someone who just found a stranger in their house. 

Nils slowly crouched on the tiled floor and extended a hand in her direction.

“Hi there,” he said quietly, “You can come over, I’m just feeding you when your mom is away.”

He knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn't help himself. If he pets her for a minute or two, nothing  _ that  _ bad will happen. Maybe he will sneeze for the rest of the day, but that was a price he was ready to pay.

They looked at each other for a while, until the cat decided that he might not make her into a pair of mittens. She slowly walked over, ready to bolt at any moment. Nils could feel his nose starting to lock up, be he remained motionless, letting her sniff his hand. She straightened up and he moved his hand, scratching her behind the ear. The instant he made contact with the cat, she crashed on the floor with the grace of a sack of potatoes, exposing her belly and purring like an old, Russian tractor.

Well, he couldn’t stop petting her then, could he? She must have been lonely, that would be cruel.

After a few minutes of one of them puring purring and the other considering if he  _ really  _ needed the ability to breathe through his nose, a sound of high-pitched meowing from inside the house reached the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, do you have company?” Nils asked the cat.

The cat did not reply, but the meows started to close in and... multiply?

And then he saw them.

_ Kittens. _

A whole litter of them barreled into the kitchen and instinctively ran in the direction of food and their mother. The direction which currently included Nils.

If he thought he couldn't handle leaving one adult cat, a bundle of kittens broke his brain. The mom must have fully embraced his role as a babysitter, because she didn't react as her kids started to climb on the human. As for Nils, he was too enamored by the sight of them playing with his shoelaces and trying to eat his fingers to even consider leaving.

Until his head started spinning.

He left the house shivering and nearly unconscious. The struggle he went through to unlock the car door used up all of his remaining strength. He dropped onto the seat, his legs still outside of the car and groaned. Fuck. It was bad. He laid down across the front seats, cup holder digging into his back. His knees were bent and his feet remained glued to the pavement, the only thing grounding him in reality.

He  _ probably  _ shouldn't drive like that.

Using enormous effort, Nils pulled out his phone and scrolled through his list of contacts. It was... depressingly short. He considered his options. Since he had the car, he couldn’t call Alexander. Kat and Bernard were in Dublin and his parents weren’t even in the same country - not that he would even consider calling them.

That left him with the closest thing to a mother he had here.

He pressed on the name and after a few signals heard a voice coming from the speaker.

"Hello?"

“Sinead,” Nils whined into the phone, “I’m dying.”

“I’m sure you are,” she answered in a calm voice, “what’s wrong?”

"Everything," he grumbled, "got sick at Mrs. Staton’s. Can’t drive home.”

“I’ll see what I can do. You try to not _ actually  _ die, alright?”

“No promises." 

***

Nils couldn't tell how long he was lying there. Enough for a few people to pass by him. One woman slowed down and asked if he's alright. He gave her a miserable thumbs up. He was not, but he'd rather die than talk about it to a stranger. Besides, he only had to hang in there until Sinead arrived.

Finally, a pair of feet entered his field of vision and stopped. A decisively manly pair of feet.

"You alive, or am I too late?" A familiar voice asked as one of the legs gave Nils a light kick.

This could  _ not _ be happening. Nils gripped the back of the seat and hoisted himself up.

“Holy shit,” Ciaran whistled, “You look even worse than usual.”

“I will sneeze into your mouth,” Nils threatened him, “are you here to laugh at my misery?”

“No, but it’s a bonus.” God, smiling made Ciaran’s face even more punchable. “My mother asked me to pick you up.”

“And you  _ agreed _ ?” 

Ciaran shrugged. “She told me you were dying, and I owe you one for the hand thing. Life for a life and shit.”

“Still, I’m... why did she have to call  _ you _ ?” 

“Her and Bernie are working. And it’s not like she has your boyfriend’s number.”

“But there’s like… an entire town full of people!”

“Pick it up with her. I can leave, if you don’t want my help.”

Ciaran put his hands in his pockets and took a step back. Nils felt like he was being taunted, as if the other man  _ wanted  _ him to refuse. And Nils almost did - he opened his mouth to say that no, thank you very much, he will just go back into the house, die, and let the cats eat his body. What came out instead was a long series of dry coughs, which made him fold in half, arms curled around himself and head between his knees.

“That’s what I thought.” Ciaran snorted. “Get in the car.”

Without raising his head, Nils flipped him off with a shaky hand. Instead of making another taunt, Ciaran grabbed his raised arm and started to drag him to his own car. Every part of Nils shouted at him to let that happen. Except for his pride. He ripped his hand out of the other man's grasp and made his way to the other vehicle fueled by a mix of spite and stubbornness. Not used to the heavy doors, he slammed them behind himself with more force than necessary, wincing at the thud they made.

“Careful,” Ciaran said, sliding behind the wheel, “I know this concept might be foreign to you, but I prefer my car in one piece.”

“Keep talking and it won’t be the car you should be worrying about.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not exactly intimidating right now.” Ciaran glanced at him. “And fasten your seatbelts.”

Nils groaned, but did as he was told. The task of walking three meters to the other car exhausted him more than it had any right to. He let his head fall back onto the headrest and opened his mouth slightly - breathing through his nose still wasn't in the cards. Not hearing a car engine start for a few seconds, he raised his eyelids slightly and saw Ciaran staring at him. Suddenly self-conscious, he realised that with his stretched pale neck, half-closed eyes and parted lips he must have looked just... pathetic.

_ ‘Fuck it. His opinion of me can’t get any lower.’  _ Nils thought to himself. Something inside of him ached at that idea.

“What?” He asked, not bothering to move at all. “I did it. Can we go?”

“Right. Yeah.” Ciaran shook his head, returning his attention to the task at hand and starting the car. “Jesus, did you drive here in that state?”

“No. I got sick here.”

"So suddenly?"

"I was supposed to feed cats. I have an allergy."

“Wait, you knew this would happen?”

“Hoped it wouldn’t.”

“What the hell? Why would you agree to do something that makes you feel so shitty?”

Wasn’t that the question.

“Some things are worth dying for,” Nils said, clutching at his chest and gazing into the distance. He put so much drama behind it that he looked like a Shakespearean hero. Which made the fact that Ciaran was looking at the road and not at him slightly offensive. A good choice, for someone who cared about bullshit stuff like 'car safety' and 'not driving into a ditch', but still offensive. 

“I’m not sure ‘feeding cats’ is one of these things.”

Nils tried to snort in reply, which - in the state he was in - resulted in choking on his own fluids. Another coughing fit later, this one decisively more gross than the previous, he fell back against his seat. Gods, he felt disgusting.

“There’s tissues in the glove box,” Ciaran murmured, still staring at the road.

Afraid of what sound might come out of him if he tried to thank him, Nils silently opened the compartment in front of him.  _ Thank God. _

“Why aren’t you making fun of me?” Nils asked, wiping his mouth. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t mind, but with Ciaran it felt… suspicious. “This is the perfect opportunity for you to be mean.”

“Do you  _ want _ me to be mean to you? Because that sounds like something you should be asking your boyfriend to- ouch!” 

Nils pinched him in the leg. He wasn't proud of it, but it did shut Ciaran up and required barely any movement.

Maybe he was a little proud.

“Fuck off,” he said, “You go out of your way to give me shit, why not now?”

“They say you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead. I’m just starting early.”

“You know I’m not  _ actually  _ dying, right?” Nils frowned at him. “And that’s bullshit, you definitely can speak ill of the dead! Like, fuck Hitler!”

“I- What?” Ciaran glanced at the shorter man again. Probably wondering how high his fever was.

“Fuck Hitler,” Nils repeated himself, “I just spoke ill of the dead. And I don’t think it’s a very controversial opinion.”

“How is that the first person- Nevermind. It doesn’t count. I feel like any rules for politeness you make, they don’t apply to Hitler. You can be rude to Hitler.”

“Alright. My mother then, my mother was an asshole.”

Ciaran paused for a second. “Your mom's dead?”

“Dead to me.” Nils snorted, making the other man roll his eyes.

“I know you think you’re proving something, but you’re really not.” Ciaran sighted, “If it’s that important to you, fine. I will ‘talk shit’ about you when you die.”

“That’s not what I was-” Goddamnit, Nils was way too sick to deal with him. Even if he started this argument himself. “Whatever.”

Luckily for both of them, everything in the area was close together. About fifteen minutes later they were pulling up in front of the Berrybog Cottage. Nils stepped out of the car, his legs already more steady than before. To his surprise, Ciaran got out as well and was walking in front of him on the narrow stone path, tall grass grazing his legs.

Still half a step in front of him, Ciaran reached the entrance and rang the doorbell.

It took Nils a few seconds of standing around to realise something was wrong with this picture.

“Wait, why are you ringing?” Nils asked, “It’s  _ my  _ house.”

He tried to push past Ciaran to reach the door knob, putting in more force than necessary. Which wouldn't be a problem, if the door were still there when he tried to push it.

Instead, his outstretched hand encountered only air. With nothing to grab and his body in an already twisted position from trying to reach around the other man, Nils stumbled forward. His body brushed against Ciaran, before a steady hand caught him by the elbow from behind.

And another hand grabbed at his shoulder from the front.

Nils found himself standing on the threshold, sandwiched between Ciaran and Alexander. Both men were holding onto him, attempting to keep him steady. 

That was the last straw of this garbage day. 

“Fuck! Off! I wasn’t going to fall!” Nils shouted, tearing himself away from them. It was barely a stumble! He was a grown man for fuck's sake! “I’m having an allergy! Not entering a coma!”

He was a mess on regular days. With the way these two were acting, he must have reached a new level of disaster and he didn't want either of them to look at it for any longer than necessary. Barely containing his anger, he walked into the house and up the stairs. He could hear the other men talking, probably about how stupid and ungrateful he was, but he had a be-  _ a mattress _ waiting in his room. At this point, the only thing he wanted was sleep.

***

This little rescue mission made Ciaran come to an uncomfortable realisation: talking with Nils was fun. Hell, arguing with the guy was fun as well. He could bet that even getting into a fistfight with him would be hun.

Although maybe mostly because he  _ really _ wanted to punch Nils. 

Just… not when he was looking so vulnerable. Not when his eyes were clouded and his voice was lacking the usual bite and he  _ needed Ciaran _ .

Of course, only because Ciaran was a decent human being. Even if Nils would never admit that he was. Honestly, Nils probably barely considered him a human. Despite the unnerving realisation, he still didn't like Nils as a person. He was still an asshole, maybe more than usual. Here was Ciaran, extending the olive branch, trying to help and not even being a dick about it, and Nils had the audacity to complain. He didn’t even get a 'thank you' for gettinging him home, the guy just walked away. Leaving Ciaran to explain to  _ his boyfriend _ why they were together and why he looked barely awake.

Which he was not going to do.

As soon as Nils disappeared, Ciaran turned around without acknowledging Alexander and started to walk back to his car.

He really hoped karma was real, because he deserved a lot of nice things after what he did today. And he sure as hell wasn’t gonna get them from Nils.

As he passed the overgrown gate of the property, he looked back at the house. His eyes immediately found the familiar bathroom window and what he suspected to be the window to the bedroom, but both were empty. Nils was probably already asleep, unaware of the long walk the other man had ahead of him.

He was about to start walking again, when he saw that the door to the cottage was still open. There stood Alexander, looking at him with suspicion.

Ciaran smirked at him and let his eyes pointedly drift to the bedroom window again, before entering the car.


	15. The Phone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter? On time? It's more likely than you think!

The drive back to Ciaran’s apartment was calm. Since it was getting late, the road leading to Edenderry was dark and empty. After the chaos of his ride with Nils, it felt almost too calm. The silence bothered Ciaran more than usual. He turned on the radio, but any station he tuned to was annoying him. Every song was too loud, every radio speaker too cheerful. He felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin, energy bubbling in his veins without anywhere to go.

After fifteen minutes of one of the worst car rides of Ciaran’s life, he was glad to be almost home. The lights of the house, where he was renting the upper floor, were deceptively close.

Maybe he wasn’t as careful as he should have been. Maybe he was driving a little too fast. Maybe he did focus too much on the stupid radio and not enough on the road.

Maybe he should have noticed the deer before they were right in front of him. Illuminated by his headlights on the old, country road, their dark eyes staring through him.

With a string of curses that would put a sailor to shame, Ciaran hit the breaks. The car slid on the wet asphalt. He swerved, trying to neither hit the animals nor drive headfirst into the stone wall of his house. With a crash and a squeal of tires, the car fell off the road, hitting the low, wooden fence and driving into the front yard, rolling over the manicured lawn and Ms. Thompson beloved roses, before finally coming to a stop on the low shrubbery.

Ciaran sat there for a few seconds, gathering his bearings. He opened the door, breaking the bushes even more in the process, before sliding out of the car. Feeling that he did enough damage for it to not matter, he laid down, flattening the unlucky tulips that used to grow there.

Looking around from his horizontal position, he couldn’t spot the deer anymore. They were gone as suddenly as they appeared, not even a trace of them left. He, however, left quite a lot of traces. All over the garden and the fence of the house he was renting.

Ciaran was convinced that somehow it was all Nils' fault.   
  


***

By the time Nils woke up, it was pitch black outside. He reached to the floor by the side of the mattress for his phone, but all his hand had encountered was cold wood. Shit. He must have thrown it somewhere with his pants. For a minute he stumbled around in the dark, until he felt the material of jeans underneath his feet. He picked them up and checked the pockets. No luck.

Turning on the lights hurt his eyes and didn’t bring him any closer to finding the phone. The floor of his room was… definitely not empty, but that particular object was not there.

Shit again. Did he lose it in the car? Was he going to have to call Ciaran? Actually, would  _ Alexander _ have to call Ciaran?

Quietly, trying not to wake up his housemate, Nils made his way downstairs, hoping he might have lost the phone somewhere on the way. He tried to avoid the creaking floorboards, but there were a few he always forgot about. It would have been easier, if there were more of them that  _ didn't  _ make the sound than the ones that did.

In the end, his effort was't worth anything. When Nils got to the ground floor, he could see the faint glow of light coming from the kitchen.

Alexander was sitting at the dining table with a mug of tea and a sketchbook, putting a lot of faith into one of the rickety chairs that Nils made. He only raised his eyes when he heard his friend entering the room. He must have heard Nils walking down the stairs, but it was nice of him to pretend that he didn't.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” Alexander asked in a smooth voice. Nils glanced at the wall clock behind him. Shit, it was over 2 in the morning, why was Alexander still awake?

“Better,” Nils sighed, sitting down on another chair and cringing as it groaned underneath him. “Fever’s down and I can breathe again. I’m a new man. Fit and full of energy.”

It wasn't very believable. Not with him slumped on the kitchen chair, hair tousled and bags under his eyes more prominent than usually. When he got home, he barely managed to switch his jeans to pajama pants, so he was still wearing yesterday’s t-shirt. He was in a dire need of a change of clothes and a shower.

“Good. Can this new man tell me what happened then,?”

“There were kittens, Alex.” Nils whined, giving up and laying his head down on the table.

“...what?” Alexander seemed genuinely surprised at this statement.

“No one told me there would be kittens! How was I supposed to 'just go in and out' when there were kittens?” He grabbed Alexander’s hand dramatically, not bothering to lift his head. “And they loved me, Alex. They. Loved. Me.”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

They stayed like that for a second, before Alexander pulled his hand back.

“You’re a mess,” he said.

“I know,” Nils sighed, closing his eyes. He was thankful for hiding his face in the table. It meant that Alexander couldn't see him twitch at the sudden ache he felt.

Silence fell between them. Alexander was a quiet guy, they often spent time together without talking. It shouldn't feel weird, but for some reason it did. 

“Are you mad at me? Nils asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

Alexander didn’t say anything, he just grunted instead. It could have meant either  _ ‘yes, I can’t even look at you _ ’ or  _ ‘no, I’m a very grumpy no-fun person that enjoys being mean to you for no reason’ _ .

Nils was pretty confident he knew which one it was supposed to be.

“Seriously?” He asked, lifting his head from the table, “I’m the one that got sick and  _ you  _ have a problem?”

“No.”

“You're a shitty liar."

“I don’t have 'a problem.'”

“Right, you sound like someone with no problems  _ at all _ . Is that why you’re sitting here in the middle of the night?”

“Drop it.” There was an edge in his voice, but Nils didn't care. If Alexander wasn't going to talk, he would make him.

"What? Just admit you're pissed off."

"Nils-"

“Are you seriously throwing a fit because I inconvenienced you?”

“I didn’t like that  _ he  _ was the one to drive you home!”

Nils’ jaw dropped. Alexander never raised his voice! This was where he was drawing the line? On something so stupid?

“What, afraid people will start to talk?” He snorted, “Say I’m fake cheating on my fake boyfriend?”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Alexander said through gritted teeth.

“No?” Nils blinked in surprise. “Then what’s the goddamn deal?”

The taller man pressed his lips together. It took way more time than necessary, until he answered, “I don’t like him.”

Nils groaned and banged his head on the table. For fuck’s sake, why was he being the grown up right now?

“I don’t like him either! He’s been a pain in my ass ever since I got here! But, contrary to popular opinion, I’m an adult! I can put my animosities aside when I’m  _ dying  _ on the side of the road!”

“You weren’t  _ actually _ dying.”

Wow, was that the best answer he had? Because Nils was not having it.

“At least Ciaran took my untimely demise seriously!”

This time, it was Alexander who was left speechless. Nils wasn't sure if it was because he actually made a point or because what he said was so dumb. Alexander opened and closed his mouth a few times, before finally saying, “You could have called me.”

Nils snorted again. “Sure. I had the car, would you run the entire way from here to Mrs. Statons?”

“Yes.”

Dumbstruck, he stared at Alexander for a long second.

“Oh.”

They looked at each other without saying anything, now more embarrassed than anything. This was why he should never have conversations at 2am. He should have conversations at all, period.

The first one to break the silence was Alexander, "Are you going back there tomorrow."

"I gotta." Nils sighed.

"I’m coming with you.”

"What for?"

"I will physically drag you away if you sit there for too long."

Nils narrowed his eyes. He didn't like it, but it made sense.

“Fine. I need someone cruel enough to deprive the cats of my presence.”

“I’m sure they will be devastated.” Alexander sighed. A hint of a smile was playing on his lips.

***

In the end, they managed to work out a system. Alexander would drive with Nils to feed the cats and make sure that the man wouldn’t incapacite himself again. Nils had no idea how Alexander was immune to the charm of the kittens, but he both admired and was slightly terrified by it. 


	16. The Pie

Sinead considered herself a problem solver. She ran a business, knew how to wash the windows without leaving streaks on them and made sure her friends stayed alive. For goodness sake, she not only managed to get a hold of her life after being left alone, pregnant and unemployed, but even managed to raise the kid to be a functioning adult!

When Nils entered her life, she knew he would bring in _ some  _ problems. Every person did, and she didn’t expect a boy who slept on the floor of a ruined house to be an exception. Despite that, she let Bernadette insert him into their lives. Fifty years of being alive taught her that most people were worth the problems they brought with themselves.

She pondered about it as she watched Nils and Ciaran meet on the street in front of her store, talk like mature adults that they were  _ not _ for about ten seconds, then proceed to shout at each other, until Ciaran threw a cell phone at Nils. To her surprise, Nils caught it. He seemed to be even more shocked by this fit of dexterity than Sinead, his eyes widening, but it didn’t stop him from yelling at Ciaran some more, until they walked in the opposite directions.

The dislike they had towards each other was... puzzling. Ciaran liked everybody. She expected him to take Nils under his wing, just like she did. He was always ready to help people, and God knows - Nils needed help. By all logic, they should have been friends.

At least friends. She wouldn't be opposed to her son settling down. His dating pool in Edenderry was quite limited. When a young, good looking man moved in, it was only natural to hope that maybe-

But Nils had Alexander. Who was a perfectly nice man deeply in love with his boyfriend. Meanwhile, Ciaran seemed determined to find out what it would take for Nils to follow on one of his many threats. 

As far as she knew, nobody knew what happened the first time they met each other. Neither of them was willing to talk about it. The only thing the locals knew for certain, was that they met before that fateful day at the  _ Tap _ . Nobody understood that fight either. She supposed that in this case, 'nobody' included both Nils and Ciaran. 

There was a lot of alcohol. They were talking about being gay. Something about deer? People had their theories. Emily was convinced that it was a case of a "one night stand gone wrong", Maisie argued that it's more likely that Ciaran broke Nils' heart, which prompted Sebastien to say that if something like that happened, it was the other way around, and then Fionn told them to get the hell out if they aren't ordering anything.

Whatever the reason, it was becoming a real problem. And Sinead considered herself a problem solver.

***

A few days after the disaster that was the first cat feeding, Nils and Alexander were driving to Mrs. Staton’s for the last time. The old woman came back to Edenderry and they were more than happy to give her the keys back. As they pulled up onto the driveway, Mrs. Staton was already there. She stood on the stone walkway, a pleasant smile on her face and a package in her hands.

Nils didn't trust that smile. She might have everybody else fooled, but he was too - ' _ paranoid', his mind supplied  _ \- clever to fall for the 'innocent grandmother' act. She was sharp, and he didn't want that sharpness directed at him.

“Look at her,” he murmured to Alexander, “so proud of herself. Thinks I don’t see how conniving she is.”

“Or, she had a lovely week with her niece and is grateful that you took care of her pets,” the man replied, more focused on not scratching the beat-up car than his friend’s one-sided vendetta against an old lady. “Have you considered she's not a crazy person bent on destroying you?”

Nils, who at this point decided that it was plausible that Mrs. Staton knew about his allergy and made an assasination attempt by sicking a herd of cats onto him, shook his head. “That’s what she  _ wants  _ you to think.”

“She’s succeeding,” Alexander answered and stepped out of the car.

“Hello, darling! I didn’t know you would be coming as well!” Still inside, the sounds that reached Nils were slightly muted, but he could hear the perkiness in the woman's voice.

Alexander glanced towards his friend, who was slowly exiting the vehicle and answered, “I- yes. There was an issue.”

“Oh no!" Mrs. Staton exclaimed. Nils was almost ready to believe that he was worried.  _ Almost _ . "What happened? Are the cats alright? Are you alright?”

“They’re fine. We're fine as well. I had an allergic reaction.” Nils cut in. Recalling Kat’s awful lecture, he saw an opportunity to play their relationship up a little. It wouldn't hurt, especially in front of the evil Mrs. Marple over there. He grabbed Alexander's hand, threading their fingers together and leaning his body on the other man. “After that,  _ Alex _ insisted on accompanying me. He gets so worried.”

Nils glanced up at the man with adoring eyes. To his - it should be a relief, but felt more like a disappointment - Alexander didn't even blink. The only reaction was the tightening of his hand.

Mrs. Staton’s surprise looked genuine enough for Nils to cross out  _ ‘tried to murder me’  _ off of the list of her suspected offenses. For now. 

“Poor darling! Why didn’t you tell me you have an allergy?” She cooed.

_ ‘Because I’m an idiot,’  _ Nils thought to himself. What came out instead was, “I didn’t expect it to be that bad,” 

“Such a shame! I was going to ask if you wanted to take one.”

“What?”

"Isn’t it lonely? Just the two of you, in this big house? Nothing brightens up a home more than a little one running around."

“What?”

“You're old enough and living together. Maybe it’s the time to expand the family?”

“ _ What? _ ”

"I know the adoption process can be intimidating, but it's so rewarding!"

Nils felt like his brain was short-circuiting. Lucky for him, Alexander maintained the ability to say more than one word.

“Are you talking about a cat?” The taller man asked.

“Am I?” Mrs. Staton winked at the two of them.

Nils couldn't believe where this conversation had taken them. He was- he could not- he would never be ready to have this talk. Not in this pretend relationship. His mind could not process what was happening, leaving him frozen in place. One hand interlocked with Alexander’s. Blood freezing and boiling at the same time. Heart forcing its way out through his throat.

“Right now we’re having trouble trying to provide even for plants. We’re not ready to... bring more life into our house.” Alexander carried on the conversation. How he was able to not faint and make his own  _ innuendos _ was beyond Nils. He was so grateful he could kiss him.

Although, to be fair, he could always kiss Alexander.

“Not ready? But is it something you considered?” Mrs. Staton’s gaze took this piercing look again, the one making Nils feel like she’s seeing straight through him and through his wallet, reading out the number of his credit card.

Alexander hummed to himself. “I can’t say it hasn't crossed my mind.”

“Really? And what conclusion did you come to?”

“We’re young. We _ just _ moved in together. For now, I want him all to myself.”

With these words, he brought their intertwined fingers up and kissed the back of Nils’ hand, stormy eyes focused on the other man.

Nils couldn't take it.

“I’m allergic,” He blurted out, trying to bring the conversation back to its original topic and away from all the words that made his insides roll around, with the desperation of a dying man.

Whatever spell kept them all suspended in time, his words broke it. Nils could again hear cars driving behind the hedge and echoes of a conversation happening down the street. Alexander blinked and lowered their hands, returning his attention to their host. 

Mrs. Staton was smiling. She seemed pleased and Nils worried whether it was a good thing or not.

“You poor thing,” Mrs. Staton cooed at him, “I’m so sorry I troubled you.”

Great. Now he felt like an asshole.

“No, I didn’t… I mean, I can’t take one. Too allergic to have one. Taking care of them was no trouble. At all.” Except for the part where he got sick and had to be rescued by goddamn Ciaran.

“Well, I hope this will soothe your pain a little.” Mrs. Staton extended her hands with the package to them. It smelled of a freshly made pie and prompted Nils to untangle himself from Alexander to take it.

“Um. Thank you. It wasn’t necessary,” he said, despite his heart already being attached to whatever baked good was underneath the checkered cloth.

“Nonsense. This is the least I can do. Besides, you're skin and bones! You really should eat better!”

Nils wasn’t going to argue, the perspective of a home-made pie stronger than his sense of obligatory politeness. Clutching it into his body, the edge of the metal plate biting into his hip, he gave Mrs. Staton her keys back, reassured her two more times that it wasn’t a problem and the three of them said their goodbyes.

As they were walking into the car, Alexander leaned down to whisper into Nils’ ear, his eyes focused on the package. “Do you want to throw it away, in case it was poisoned?”

Nils punched him in the arm.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it! I'm going to try and update it every Sunday


End file.
